LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 

AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

STEWART  S.  HOWE 

JOURNALISM  CLASS  OF  1928 


STEWART  S.  HOWE  FOUNDATION 


799,1 
J63a 


1   o  H  « 


ANGLING 


IN  THE 


Lakes  of  Northern  Illinois 

HOW  AND  WHERE  TO  FISH  THEM. 


INTERSPERSED  WITH  NUMEROUS  ANECDOTES. 


Profusely  Illustrated  by  Descriptive  Charts  of  the  Various 

Waters  of  the  Fox  River  Lakes,  Showing  the 

Locations  of  the  Fishing  Grounds, 

and  the  Best  Method  of 

Fishing  Them. 


By  CHAS.  F.JOHNSON. 


CHICAGO: 

THE  AMERICAN  FIELD  PUBLISHING  CO. 
1896. 


COPYRIGHT,  1896, 

BY 

THE  AMERICAN  FIELD  PUBLISHING  CO. 
CHICAGO 


The  Blakely  Printing  Uo.,  Chicago. 


I  I  It 


CHAPTER  I. 
Sand   Lake — Slough   Lake— The  Irishman  and   the 

Cow ' 5 

CHAPTER  II. 

Fourth  or  Miltimore  Lake— My  First  Catfish 15 

CHAPTER  III. 

Crooked  Lake — O'Leary's  Goose 27 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Cedar  Lake — Tubby's  Second  Run — A  Patriotic  Lob- 
ster     37 

CHAPTER   V. 

Deep  Lake — Sun  Lake — Tommy  and  the  Goat 45 

CHAPTEiR  VI. 

Hastings    Lake — My     Poetical     Fishing     Friend- 
Angling  for  an  Otter 49 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Huntley's   Lake—Swallowing   a   Fishhook 55 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
Lake  Marie  and  Bluff  Lake— Shell  Fish  and  Clam 

Chowder— The  Colonel's  Photograph G3 

CHAPTER  IX. 
First  or  Gage's  Lake— An  Embarrassing  Position— 

The  Incident  of  an  Iron  Pot 71 

CHAPTER  X. 
Chitteuden  and  Druce  Lakes — Sandy  McGree's  Eel 

Pie 77 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Long  Lake — A  Lesson  in  Bait-Casting—Toby  Snuf- 
fles and  the  Little  School  Marm— Up-to-date  Bar- 

bering 81 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Round    Lake — A    Queer     Advertisement     and     a 

Troublesome  Canine 87 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Taylor's  Lake— A  Legend  of  Limburger  Cheese. ...     93 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Gray's   Lake — My    First   and   Last   Experience    in 

Ranching. 99 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Channel  Lake — Lake  Catherine— Loon  Lake— locat- 
ing Strange  Waters— How  and  When  to  Strike  a 

Fish 105 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Fox  Laike — Petite  Lake— Observations  on   Skitter- 
ing and  Bait-Casting Ill 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Smith  Wright,  the  well-known  Sand  Lake  guide 

and  expert  angler 7 

Sand  Lake  and  Slough  Lake 11 

Fourth  or  Miltimore  Lake 17 

"I  was  so  paralyzed  at  the  sight  of  my  capture  as 

to  immediately  drop  everything" 21 

"It's  a  dogfish — why,  you  can't  eat  that  thing".  ...  23 

Crooked  Lake 26 

"That  dhoul  of  a  bird  was  harder  than  rock  itself"  29 

"And  erected  a  mound  to  his  memory" 33 

"Eagerly  watching  his  rod  with  wrapt  attention"..  39 

Cedar  Lake 41 

"Ye  gods!  what  an  avalanche  of  lobsteriaii  matter 

descended   in  our   midst" 43 

Deep  Lake  and   Sun  Lake 44 

"And  commenced  a  most  malignant  assault  upon 

Tommy" 47 

"I  managed  to  crawl  and  cling  to  the  slope  clear 

of  the  water" 48 

Hastings  Lake 51 

"I'm  a  dead  man;  I've  swallowed  that  fishhook".  .  57 

Huntley's  Lake 59 

"And  the  Colonel  took  the  picture" 62 

S.ake  Marie  and   Bluff   Lake 65 

First  or  Gage's   Lake 73 

Chittend^n  and  Druce  Lakes 76 

Long  Lake 83 

Round  Lake 86 

Taylor's  Lake 92 

Gray's  Lake 101 

Channel  Lake  and  Lake  Catherine 107 

Loon  Lake 109 

Fox  Lake 113 

Petite  Lake 115 


CHAPTER  I. 

SAND  LAKE  AND    SLOUGH    LAKE.       THE  IRISHMAN  AND 
THE    COW. 

How  delightful  are  the  thoughts  and  reminiscences 
suggested  to  the  man  who  fishes  by  that  familiar 
phrase— "The  Lake  Region." 

For  seven  long  months  in  the  year  we  toil  within  a 
limited  horizon  of  bricks,  mortar  and  smoke,  encoun- 
tering the  vexatious  worries  and  hundred  and  one 
anxieties  incidental  to  and  inseparable  from  the  daily 
task  of  dollar  hunting,  rising  early,  retiring  late, 
struggling  against  the  vicissitudes  of  a  climate  which 
if  appropriated  by  Hades  could  render  that  undesirable 
abode  more  undesirable  still;  in  fact,  vegetating  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  mechanically  following  a  certain 
routine  of  existence,  enduring  the  "Winter  of  our  dis- 
content" with  patience  and  resignation,  solely  because 
we  are  sure  of  our  reward  later,  and  that  for  five 
blessed  months,  viz.,  June,  July,  August,  September 
and  October,  the  enchanting  fairyland  of  fishdom  can 
once  again  be  traversed  and  explored  in  those  beauti- 
ful spots  familiar  to  us— "The  Lake  Region." 

My  aim  in  the  following  series  of  articles  is  to  de- 
scribe the  numerous  lake  resorts  of  Northern  Illinois 
which  can  be  reached  on  the  Wisconsin  Cen- 
tral Railway  by  a  short  journey*  of  two 
to  three  hours'  duration,  and  a  full  day's 
sport  enjoyed  during  that  period  of  time  embraced 
by  leaving  the  city  on  the  Saturday  noon  train  at  1:25 
and  arriving  in  Chicago  on  the  Sunday  evening  fol- 
lowing. I  know  that,  although  a  great  number  of  an- 
glers are  already  familiar  with  the  fishing  grounds  of 
the  Fox  Lake  Region,  there  are  still  many  would-be 
(5) 


6  SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE. 

fishermen  ignorant  of  the  layout  of  this  delightful  local- 
ity. It  is  to  these  individuals  I  principally  address 
myself,  although  not  without  a  lurking  hope  that  the 
old  habitues  of  the  places  named  will  find  something 
of  interest  also. 

The  descriptive  charts  showing  the  different  forma- 
tions of  the  lake  bottoms  and  marginal  surroundings, 
together  with  the  varied  finny  prey  they  contain,  have 
been  compiled  from  personal  experiences  during  a  se- 
ries of  fishing  trips  extending  over  many  past  years. 
In  addition  to  this,  the  description  of  the  different 
watery  territory  and  the  fisheS  to  be  found  therein, 
to  make  assurances  doubly  sure,  have  been  submitted 
to  the  consideration  and  opinion  of  those  local  angling 
celebrities  living  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  men  thor- 
oughly acquainted  with  every  pocket,  sandbar,  and 
deep  hole;  individuals  who  in  many  cases  have  fished 
the  waters  from  childhood,  and  whose  reliability  in 
these  matters  is  above  question. 

It  is,  of  course,  impossible  to  show  in  the  accompany- 
ing charts  the  commencement  and  ends  of  the  bound- 
ary lines,  within  which  the  several  fishing  grounds 
lie,  with  the  absolute  exactitude  of  a  professional  sur- 
vey on  dry  land,  but  the  landmarks  and  other  signs 
shown  in  the  charts,  together  with  the  notes  accom- 
panying them,  I  believe  are  sufficiently  accurate  and 
self-explanatory  to  enable  even  a  stranger  by  the  exer- 
cise of  a  little  care  and  patience  to  find  any  of  the 
spots  designated. 

To  those  anglers  who  indulge  in  still  fishing,  I  would 
advise  a  slight  change  of  "ground"  at  short  intervals 
until  results  prove  them  to  be  anchored  in  the  best 
portion  of  whatever  fishing  water  they  may  have 
selected.  This  is  particularly  applicable  to  wall-eyed 
pike  fishing;  these  fishes,  lying  in 'the  very  deepest 
parts  of  the  water,  make,  it  impossible  to  locate  their 
"holding  ground"  from  any  surface  signs,  as  in  the 
case  of  pickerel  and  bass  "grounds." 

I  have  noticed  there  are  three  classes  of  fishermen 


SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE.  7 

visiting  the  lakes  and  generally  making  big  catches. 
First  is  the  modern  bait-caster,  his  tools  a  short,  light 
bait-casting  rod,  quadruple  multiplying  reel,  and  un- 
dressed silk  casting  line,  which,  when  wielded  by  the 
expert,  enable  him  to  place  his  frog  or  minnow  in  a 
light,  natural  manner  upon  the  water,  sufficiently  far 


SMITH  WEIGHT,  THE  WELL-KNOWN  SAND  LAKE  GUIDE  AND 
EXPERT  ANGLER 

away  to  completely  conceal  from  his  keen  visioned 
quarry  the  identity  of  himself  and  tackle.  This  method 
is  the  very  embodiment  of  scientific  angling,  and  is 
undoubtedly  the  most  enjoyable  and  successful  mode 
of  catching  fish  with  hook  and  line  ever  introduced. 


8  SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE. 

The  man  who  uses  a  combination  of  this  description 
is  invariably  an  enthusiastic  and  devoted  fisherman, 
for  there  is  no  method  of  angling  which  can  so  quickly 
impart  the  many  secrets  of  fish  and  fish  lore  as  does  the 
practice  of  bait-casting.  It  commands  constant  and 
closest  attention  to  the  matter  at  issue,  compelling  an 
undivided  observation,  which  quickly  gives  that  in- 
tuitive perception  of  "desirable  environments"  and 
"favorable  signs,"  the  knowledge  of  which  is  absolutely 
essential  to  successful  angling. 

The  second  class  of  lucky  fishermen  are  those  old- 
time  habitues  of  the  lakes,  whose  outfits  and  methods 
of  using  them  are  of  the  most  crude  and  simple  de- 
scription, men  to  whom  the  modern  methods  of  an- 
gling and  the  innumerable  adjuncts  to  the  craft  are 
as  a  sealed  book.  Such  individuals  survey  the  costly 
rods  and  expensive  outfits  of  the  up-to-date  bait-caster 
with  an  air  of  kindly  irony  and  good-natured  forbear- 
ance, secretly  wondering  how  the  deuce  a  fellow  can 
be  so  foolish  as  to  invest  fifty  or  sixty  dollars  in  fishing 
tackle,  when  according  to  their  old-fashioned  firm 
conviction  a  twenty-cent  bamboo  pole,  cotton  line,  and 
hook  baited  with  a  minnow  or  frog's  leg  will  enable 
them  to  unceremoniously  "yank  out"  fish  "ad  libitum." 
Dear,  genial  old  disciples  of  Izaak;  fit  representatives 
of  ye  ancient  angler. 

These,  equipped  with  a  long,  stiff  bamboo  pole,  short, 
thick  line,  and  spoon  or  baited  hook,  will  engage  the 
services  of  some  old  experienced  boatman,  who  will 
stealthily  row  the  boat  from  which  they  fish  just  out- 
side some  rush  or  sedge  beds,  enabling  their  patrons  to 
display  their  baits  to  the  fishes  lurking  within  the 
cover  without  being  seen.  Such  anglers  frequently 
have  remarkable  success,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
boatman  who  rows  them  is  usually  some  experienced 
old-timer  who,  appreciating  the  timorous  disposition 
of  the  fishes  and  knowing  every  likely  fishing  spot, 
is  able  with  a  quiet,  light  movement  of  the  sculls  to 
keep  the  boat  sufficiently  far  away  to  insure  conceal- 


SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE.  9 

ment  of  both  boat  and  occupants,  and  yet  allow  the 
fisherman  to  place  his  bait  within  striking  distance 
of  the  fish. 

In  this  case  the  angler's  success  is  due  entirely  to 
the  skill  and  forethought  of  the  man  who  rows  in  know- 
ing where  the  fishes  are  and  approaching  them  without 
the  slightest  splash  or  disturbance,  allowing  the  mer- 
est angling  novice  who  will  sit  perfectly  still  and  draw 
a  bait  through  the  water  at  rod's  length  to  frequently 
take  a  catch  of  fish  which  will  make  the  expert  bait- 
caster's  mouth  water  with  envy;  and  I  will  venture 
to  say  that  every  man  who  fishes  in  this  manner  and 
makes  a  big  catch  gives  to  himself  the  sole  credit 
thereof,  and  in  his  harmless  vanity  imagines  himself 
to  be  a  wonderfully  clever  fisherman,  little  thinking 
what  an  important  part  the  other  fellow  who  rowed 
the  boat  played  in  their  capture. 

The  third  successful  style  of  fishing  is  trolling  from 
a  boat,  rowing  slowly  along  the  deeper  stretches  with 
a  trolling  spoon  following  about  seventy  or  eighty  feet 
behind  the  boat;  and  the  man  who  trolls  is  certainly 
not  to  be  accused  of  laziness,  for  if  there  is  any  mode 
of  catching  fish  with  rod  and  line  which  keeps  a  man 
continually  on  the  move  it  is  that  in  which  the  trolling 
spoon  is  used. 

The  group  of  lakes  to  which  I  will  first  call  attention 
are  Sand  Lake,  Crooked  Lake,  Fourth  or  Miltimore 
Lake,  Slough  Lake  and  Hastings  Lake,  in  Lake  County, 
111.  These  are  reached  from  the  Lake  Villa  depot  on 
the  Wisconsin  Central,  a  distance  of  fifty  miles  from 
Chicago,  and  are  all  located  within  easy  distance  of 
Smith  Wright's  house,  the  Sand  Lake  Hotel,  which 
lies  about  two  miles  southeast  of  the  depot.  Sand 
Lake  faces  the  house  on  the  north,  its  nearest  shore 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  front  door.  Slough 
Lake  is  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  southwest,  Crooked 
Lake  a  mile  northwest,  Fourth  or  Miltimore  Lake  half 
a  mile  south,  aud  Hastings  Lake  about  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  away  north.  The  reason  I  have  grouped  these 


10  SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE. 

lakes  together  is,  they  can  all  be  fished  with  but  little 
traveling,  by  making  Smith  Wright's  house  one's  head- 
quarters. 

For  much  of  the  information  regarding  the  fishing 
spots  on  these  lakes  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness 
and  courtesy  of  Mr.  Smith  Wright,  than  whom  a  more 
genial  fishing  companion,  right-down  good  fellow  and 
painstaking  host  never  existed,  and  any  angler  visiting 
these  lakes  who  has  the  good  fortune  to  make  a  fishing 
trip  with  Smith  Wright  may  mark  it  as  a  red-letter 
day,  for  he'll  surely  catch  fish,  have  a  royal  good  time, 
and  obtain  much  valuable  information  regarding  the 
sport. 

Smith  Wright  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  success- 
ful bait-casters  on  the  lakes.  Fifty  years  ago  his 
father,  George  Wright,  who  died  four  years  ago,  pur- 
chased from  the  government  the  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  which  make  part  of  the  present  holding,  fronting 
on  Sand  Lake.  During  the  first  twenty  years  he 
farmed,  but  the  steadily  increasing  influx  of  sports- 
men from  growing  Chicago,  who  made  the  house  their 
headquarters  when  fishing  the  adjoining  lakes,  caused 
the  old  gentleman  to  view  his  farming  operations  as 
of  secondary  importance.  He  enlarged  the  house, 
named  it  Sand  Lake  Hotel,  and  catered  to  the  wants 
of  his  city  visitors.  Within  a  few  years  of  his  death 
he  turned  the  house  and  its  large  patronage  over  to 
his  son,  Smith,  who  with  his  estimable  wife,  the  pres- 
ent hostess,  now  runs  the  place.  The  terms  are  one 
dollar  a  day,  including  boats,  and  live  bait  of  every 
description  can  always  be  had. 

Sand  Lake  contains  as  good  bass  and  pickerel  grounds 
as  any  piece  of  water  in  the  lake  region,  and  it  is  as- 
serted by  many  old  settlers  that  the  lake  affords  nearly 
as  good  fishing  as  it  did  forty  years  ago.  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  this,  for  I  think  it  is  impossible  to  ever  fish 
out  any  body  of  water  which  contains  so  many  weed 
beds  as  do  most  of  the  lakes  in  this  region.  Sand  Lake 
has  always  been,  known  as  an  uncertain  fishing  water, 


SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE. 


11 


unlike  Fourth  Lake,  which  even  under  the  most  un- 
favorable auspices  of  wind  and  weather  will  yield  some 
return  to  the  persevering  and  patient  fisherman.  But 
in  Sand  Lake  it's  "all  or  none."  For  days  together  the 
fishes  will  remain  stolidly  indifferent  to  the  most  seduc- 
tive baits  and  careful  fishing,  but  when  they  do  come 


Slough  Lake  Sand  Lake 

on  feed  they  go  for  the  bait  with  an  abandon  that 
allows  the  fisherman  to  make  a  big  catch  in  a  very 
short  time. 

The  lake  is  fed  by  springs  and  the  fishes  in  it.  par- 
ticularly the  pickerel,  are  the  gamiest  and  finest  eat- 
ing that  ever  sprung  a  rod  or  graced  the  table.  It  is 


12  SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE. 

a  notable  fact  that  pickerel  under  five  pounds'  weight 
are  seldom  caught  in  Sand  Lake. 

The  best  pickerel  "ground"  is  that  marked  on  the 
chart  south  of  the  deep  water  sixty-five  feet  in  depth. 
By  anchoring  on  the  weed  bed  skirting  it  on  tiie  south 
end,  and  casting  out  as  far  as  possible  into  the  deep 
water  beyond  and  allowing  the  bait  to  sink  well  be- 
fore drawing  slowly  in,  is  the  best  method  of  fishing 
this  spot.  A  golden  rule  and  one  which  often  marks 
the  distinguishing  line  between  success  and  failure  is: 
"Don't  reel  in  too  quickly."  Stop  reeling  every  now  and 
then,  giving  by  a  movement  of  the  rod's  point  those 
little  hesitatory  jerks  and  seductive  movements  to  the 
bait  which  are  so  enticing  to  the  fish. 

The  shallow  Avater  in  the  southeast,  in  shore,  affords 
excellent  fly-fishing  for  bass  on  a  still  evening,  after  a 
hot  day.  It  is  hard  bottomed,  with  a  fringe  of  weeds 
extending  to  within  fifty  yards  of  the  shore  line,  and 
is  capital  wading  ground. 

The  rocky  bottomed  ground,  in  shore,  opposite  the 
school  house,  is  excellent  water  for  the  fly,  while  far- 
ther out  and  in  the  deeper  water,  over  toward  the 
sand,  live  bait  can  be  used  to  advantage.  For  early 
morning  and  midday  fishing  the  lily  pads  on  the  west 
end  of  the  lake  are  the  best  spots. 

Although  the  bait-caster  may  turn  up  his  nose  in 
disdain  at  the  mere  mention  of  perch  fishing,  there  are 
still  many  who  enjoy  a  catch  of  these  toothsome  and 
plucky  little  fellows.  The  "ground"  marked  on  the 
southwestern  point  of  the  sandbar  will  be  found  to 
yield  the  man  who  fishes  for  perch  all  the  fun  he  could 
reasonably  wish;  for,  unlike  the  bass  and  pickerel  in 
this  lake,  perch  will  be  found  always  hungry  and  ready 
to  grab  the  baited  hook  dropped  for  their  notice. 

Just  outside  the  little  rush  bed  east  of  T.  Donnelly's 
house  is  a  sure  find  for  large  bass  at  almost  any  time, 
but  the  limited  extent  of  this  ground  forbids  any  great 
catch. 

Slough  Lake  affords  good  fishing  all  around  in  shore. 


SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE.  13 

Both  pickerel  and  bass  are  fairly  plentiful.  This  lake 
is  something  like  Sand  Lake  in  regard  to  the  feeding 
habits  of  the  fishes.  But  large  catches  are  often  made. 
It  is  a  good  plan  after  making  the  round  of  the  lake 
(which  is  small)  and  finding  no  sport,  to  leave  it  and 
try  some  other  lake. 

There  is  a  very  large  pickerel  in  this  lake  still,  for 
which  the  late  Mr.  George  Wright  offered  any  angler 
who  could  capture  it  fifty  dollars.  Although  it  has  fre- 
quently been  seen,  no  angler  ever  has  been  able  to 
induce  it  to  take  a  bait. 

Two' years  ago  an  Irishman,  fresh  from  the  old  sod, 
spending  a  week's  holiday  at  Wright's  house,  heard 
of  this  big  fellow  and  declared  his  intention  of  attempt- 
ing to  catch  him.  The  boys,  before  he  started,  in  pure 
waggery,  narrated  such  wonderful  yarns  as  to  the 
length,  weight  and  breadth  of  this  fish  that  the  Irish- 
man was  pretty  well  prepared  to  see  almost  any  kind 
of  water  monstrosity. 

He  set  out  at  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  equipped 
with  a  clothes  prop,  ten  yards  of  chalk  line  treble 
braided,  two  chub  minnows  for  bait  weighing  re- 
spectively two  and  three  pounds  each,  and  an  old 
shark  hook  that  had  been  kicking  about  in  Wright's 
odds  and  ends  box  for  many  years.  He  returned  at 
5:30  minus  his  hat,  coat  and  tackle,  rushed  into  the 
house  and  incoherently  besought  Mrs.  Wright: 

"For  the  love  of  the  saints  give  me  a  stimulant, 
quick!"  . 

It  took  nearly  all  the  contents  of  Wright's  medicine 
chest  to  fix  him  up  sufficiently  to  stand,  and  then  all 
he  could  do  was  to  yell  at  the  top  of  his  voice: 

"I've  seen  it!    I've  seen  it!    I've  seen  it!" 

After  he  had  imparted  this  information  for  about  ten 
minutes,  without  varying  it,  Wright  got  impatient  and 
shaking  him  roughly,  asked  him: 

"What  the  dickens  have  you  seen,  anyhow?" 

"I've  seen  either  the  big  pickerel  or  the  devil,"  he  at 
last  managed  to  blurt  out,  during  a  lucid  interval,  and 


14  SAND    LAKE    AND    SLOUGH    LAKE. 

"for  Hiven's  sake  take  me  home  immediately,  for  I 
feel  that  a  place  where  such  goings  on  happen  is  no 
place  for  me."  Smith  harnessed  up  the  rig  and  landed 
him  down  to  the  depot  in  time  to  catch  the  train  which 
left  an  hour  later. 

The  next  morning  one  of  the  boys  who  went  to 
Slough  Lake  found  an  old  dead  cow  on  its  back,  stuck 
fast  in  the  mud,  close  by  the  Irishman's  boat,  with  its 
legs  sticking  above  the  water  about  a  foot. 

The  death  agonies  of  an  old  cow,  stuck  fast  in  the 
mud  in  two  feet  of  water,  as  seen  in  the  dim  twilight 
by  a  superstitious  Irishman,  are  apt  to  produce  such 
effects  that  Smith  Wright  ought  to  have  congratulated 
himself  he  didn't  have  a  raving  lunatic  on  his  hands 
instead  of  a  badly  frightened  Irishman. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FOURTH  OR  MILTIMORE  LAKE.       MY  FIRST  CATFISH. 

Fourth  or  Miltimore  Lake,  located  half  a  mile  south 
of  Sand  Lake  Hotel,  is  undoubtedly  the  best  fishing 
lake  of  any  in  the  Fox  Lake  region.  It  is  practically  two 
lakes  divided  by  a  spit  of  land  with  a  narrow  channel 
joining  them.  During  a  dry  spell  this  channel  dries  up 
and  the  upper  and  lower  portions  of  Fourth  Lake  really 
become  two  separate  pieces  of  water  without  any 
connecting  waterway. 

Fourth  Lake,  from  its  location  and  diversified  sur- 
roundings, offers  finer  fishing  water  for  the  angler 
and  better  facilities  for  success  during  those  un- 
favorable times  when  fish  are  off  feed  than  can  be 
found  in  any  other  sheet  of  water  with  which  I  am 
acquainted.  It  is  rare,  indeed,  for  the  man  who  fishes 
Fourth  Lake  during  those  months  comprised  in  the 
ordinary  fishing  season  to  have  an  entirely  blank  day; 
patient  research  invariably  will  reveal  some  pocket 
or  corner  at  one  end  or  another  of  the  lake  which  will 
yield  a  few  bass  or  pickerel. 

The  surroundings  of  Fourth  Lake  are  such  as  to 
permit  of  a  lee  shore,  no  matter  in  which  direction  the 
wind  may  blow.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  lake  a 
chilly  wind  may  cool  the  water  and  roughen  its  sur- 
face with  heavy  waves,  sending  the  fish  into  the 
deeper  portions  far  away  from  the  angler's  reach, 
yet  the  water  at  the  upper  or  north  end  will  be  found 
to  have  experienced  no  change  of  temperature,  owing 
to  the  protecting  influence  of  the  wooded  ground  sur- 
rounding it.  In  fact,  it  may  be  generally  said  of  Fourth 
Lake  that  if  the  fish  are  not  feeding  in  one  portion 
they  are  pretty  sure  to  do  so  in  another. 

The  two  finest  pickerel  grounds  in  the  lake  are  those 

2  (15) 


16  FOURTH    OR    MILTIMORE    LAKE. 

marked  A  and  B  on  the  chart.  In  the  former  the 
fishing  is  at  its  best  late  in  the  season,  about  October 
and  November,  at  which  time  a  perch  tail,  used*near 
the  surface,  is  the  most  killing  bait.  The  appearance 
of  this  piece  of  water  is  indicative  of  its  excellence. 
Prom  four  to  ten  feet  in  depth;  skirted  on  its  north 
side  by  an  extensive  rush  bed,  thence  gradually  deep- 
ening as  it  opens  out  into  the  lake;  the  bottom  studded 
with  a  rich  growth  of  pickerel  and  bass  weeds,  suffi- 
ciently thick  to  afford  concealment  to  the  fishes  with- 
out seriously  impeding  the  angler  in  casting  his  bait 
and  landing  the  fish  when  hooked. 

The  bay  marked  Bon  the  chart  is  an  excellent  pickerel 
ground  at  all  times  and  I  believe,  from  my  own  ex- 
perience, contains  more  and  larger  pickerel  than  any 
other  spot  in  the  lakes.  There  are  several  pickerel 
frequenting  this  bay  whose  weight  would  be  a  surprise 
to  the  angler  who  might  be  so  fortunate  as  to  catch 
one  of  them. 

The  bass  ground  marked  C,  just  west  of  the  boat 
house,  is  very  fine;  the  best  bass  fishing  is  just  within 
the  outer  edge  of  the  rushes.  There  are  several  pock- 
ets, well  inside  the  rushes  along  the  whole  of  this  por- 
tion of  the  north  shore,  which  are  worth  particular  at- 
tention on  the  part  of  the  angler. 

Recollect,  in  boat  fishing,  to  use  the  sculls  as  little 
as  possible;  drift  all  you  can.  The  proper  and  most 
successful  way  to  fish  a  piece  of  water  is  to  row  to  the 
windward,  keeping  well  out  and  away  from  the  water 
you  intend  to  fish,  and  then  drift  over  it,  taking  care  to 
sit  still  and  avoid  rocking  the  boat,  for  you  cannot  be 
too  cautious  and  careful  when  fishing  for  large  bass. 

The  best  spots  at  which  to  fly-fish  for  bass  are  those 
marked  D,  just  outside  the  rushes.  Lake  fly-fishing  for 
bass  is  not  a  pronounced  success.  The  best  fly-fishing 
for  bass  is  to  be  had  on  the  rifiies  of  streams  with  rapid 
currents;  but  there  are  times  when  even  lake  fishing  for 
bass  with  the  artificial  fly  will  insure  a  big  catch. 
Seven  years  ago  I  had  such  a  catch  in  Sand  Lake,  on 


FOURTH    OR    MILTIMORB    LAKE. 


17 


18  FOUftTH    OR    MILTIMORE    LAKE}. 

that  portion  of  the  water  marked  as  suitable  for  fly- 
fishing, and  as  there  may  be  some  enthusiastic  votaries 
of  the  fly-rod  among  the  readers  of  the  American  Field, 
I  will  here  give  a  few  hints  relative  to  fishing  for  bass 
with  the  fly.  They  are  clipped  from  a  small  pamphlet 
I  prepared  in  1893,  on  behalf  of  the  Natchaug  Silk  Co. 
for  distribution  by  them  during  the  World's  Columbian 
Exposition.  As  I  have  since  had  no  cause  to  modify 
my  ideas  relating  to  bass  fishing  with  the  fly,  I  will 
reproduce  them  here: 

"The  bass  takes  the  fly  at  from  six  to  nine  inches 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  water.  Repeat  your  cast 
until  you  get  the  fly  over  the  desired  spot,  then  allow  it 
to  ^all  delicately  upon  the  water.  Let  the  fly  sink  to  the 
desired  depth.  Then,  elevating  the  tip  of  the  rod,  by 
a  series  of  short,  hesitatory  jerks  bring  the  fly  toward 
you.  On  feeling  a  slight  resistance  strike  smartly.  The 
fly  must  light  on  the  water  without  commotion  and 
with  the  least  possible  ripple. 

"While  the  fly  is  sinking  the  bass  has  opportunity  to 
investigate  it;  by  the  time  the  motion  of  the  rod  is 
given  to  the  fly  the  bass  is  anxious  to  seize  it,  and,  per- 
haps, is  caught  almost  before  the  angler  knows  it. 

"Small  bass  you  can  catch  in  almost  any  bungling 
manner,  but  large  bass  must  be  kept  in  complete  igno- 
rance of  yourself,  rod  and  line,  otherwise  you  will  sel- 
dom catch  them.  Small  fry  in  disporting  themselves 
do  so  without  excessive  violence.  A  frog  in  taking  to 
the  water  does  so  in  a  quiet,  easy  manner,  marking  his 
submersion  with  a  light  splash  devoid  of  any  violent 
agitatory  action;  a  small  water-snake,  alarmed  in  the 
act  of  swimming  upon  the  surface,  disappears  almost 
silently. 

"Everything  obeys  the  laws  of  Nature.  So  perfectly 
do  bass  recognize  these  laws  that  any  line  placed  before 
them  in  a  manner  foreign  to  that  which  their  instincts 
accept  will  be  eyed  with  suspicion  and  left  alone. 

"Seat  yourself  by  the  pleasant  waterside  and  learn 
these  lessons  from  Nature.  The  study  will  well  repay. 


FOURTH    OR    MILT1MORB    LAKE.  19 

Do  not  make  fishing  all  mechanical  work,  combing  the 
river  from  dawn  till  dark;  investigate  the  wonderful 
watery  world  in  which  fishes  so  strangely  have  their 
being;  learn  there  from  reliable  data  which  will  assist 
you  in  their  capture.  In  wading,  avoid  splashing  the 
water  or  any  violent.hasty  movement  ;advance  stealthily 
from  one  point  to  another.  Should  there  be  a  slight 
deposit  of  mud  over  a  hard  bottom,  lift  the  feet  care- 
fully straight  up  from  the  bottom;  this  will  prevent  the 
water  in  your  vicinity  from  becoming  muddy. 

"Bass  have  a  keen  sight,  and  are  easily  alarmed,  hence 
let  the  angler  seize  every  advantage  of  natural  cover; 
the  projecting  corners  of  banks,  sedge  beds,  sudden 
bends  and  the  like  afford  opportunities  for  approaching 
unawares.  Do  not  forget  to  sink  the  fly  well;  the 
deeper  the  fly  is  in  the  water,  the  deeper  the  bass  will 
be  when  he  seizes  it,  therefore  the  less  chance  he  has  of 
seeing  you  and  discovering  the  method  of  its  presenta- 
tion; about  nine  inches  is  usually  as  deep  as  a  fly  can 
sink  and  clear  the  bottom  growth  of  weeds. 

"Do  not  be  too  anxious  to  recover  the  fly  from  the 
water.  Bring  it  toward  you  slowly,  without  undue 
haste,  interposing  its  progress  with  slight  momentary 
pauses.  Thus  a  not  over-hungry  bass  is  given  a  chance 
to  seize  it;  whei'eas,  if  pulled  too  quickly,  a  'short  rise' 
will  be  the  result. 

"Now  a  few  words  as  to  those  portions  of  a  water 
in  which  to  fish.  Ignorance  on  this  matter  will  render 
the  best  flies  and  the  utmost  proficiency  in  using  them 
of  little  avail.  All  waters  have  certain  portions  par- 
ticularly adapted  as  holding  ground  for  bass,  and  other 
parts  where  bass  are  seldom  or  never  found.  Waste 
no  time  in  fishing  those  dark  deeper  portions  bordered 
with  sedge  and  clear  muddy  bottom.  Fish  places  with 
hard,  irregular  and  rocky  bottoms,  here  and  there 
dotted  with  a  sufficient  deposit  of  mud  to  encourage  a 
straggling  growth  of  that  variety  of  water  grass  which 
seldom  grows  quite  tall  enough  to  appear  above  the 
surface.  This  is  a  desirable  formation,  being  sufficiently 


20  FOURTH    OR    MILTIMORE    LAKE. 

dense  to  afford  to  fishes  cover  and  secrecy,  without 
seriously  impeding  their  movements." 

That  bane  of  the  angler— the  dogfish— will  be  met 
with  pretty  frequently  in  Fourth  Lake.  How  annoying 
it  is  to  have  one's  hopes  raised  by  an  unusually  heavy 
strike,  followed  by  a  period  of  hard  play,  only  to  have 
the  supposed  big  bass  turn  out  an  enormous  dogfish. 
Speaking  of  dogfish  reminds  me  of  the  first  dogfish  I 
ever  captured,  many,  many  years  ago. 

It  was  on  the  Little  Calumet  River  a  little  below 
Miller's,  and  a  momentous  trip  it  was  for  me,  being  the 
first  time  I  had  ever  gone  fishing  in  downright  earnest, 
and  I  knew  very  little  about  it.  My  tackle  consisted 
of  ^  light  rod,  fine  casting  line,  and  small  Limerick 
hook,  baited  with  a  bunch  of  juicy  squirming  worms. 
I  had  hardly  cast  my  line  into  the  water  before  I  ex- 
perienced such  a  determined,  regular  come-along,  busi- 
ness-like pull  as  to  make  me  wonder  what  the  dickens 
had  happened.  I  became  dimly  aware  of  hooking 
something,  but  what  it  Avas  couldn't  give  the  slightest 
guess.  Then  commenced  a  full  fifteen  minutes'  strong 
battle  between  something  which,  while  resisting  all 
my  efforts  to  raise  it  from  the  bottom,  made  a  cease- 
less, steady  detour  of  the  deep  pool  before  me.  At  the 
expiration  of  this  period  of  time  it  evidently  thought 
a  little  rest  would  be  acceptable,  for  without  further 
ado  it  quietly  rested  upon  the  bottom,  and  the  utmost 
tension  I  desired  to  exert  with  my  light  tackle  failed 
to  shift  it  in  the  slightest,  so  I  placed  the  rod  upon  the 
ground,  and  after  a  little  search  found  a  snake-rail 
fence;  from  this  I  took  a  rail  about  thirty-five  feet  long, 
and  succeeded  in  reaching  sufficiently  far  into  the 
water  to  dislodge  my  captive  and  send  him  careering 
around  the  pool  again.  After  a  short  period  he  rested 
again,  and  again  I  prodded  him  into  action  with  the 
rail.  For  about  four  hours  this  circus  went  on;  it  was 
fifteen  minutes'  action  and  five  minutes  for  recreation, 
alternately,  until  I  began  to  wonder  whether  such  a 


FOURTH    OR    MILT1MORE    LAKE. 


21 


22  FOURTH    OR    MILTIMORE    LAKE. 

protracted  test  of  endurance  would  not  end  in  tiring 
myself  out  instead  of  my  captive. 

At  last,  the  great  unknown  apparently  shook  off  the 
apathetic  behavior  which  had  hitherto  characterized 
his  actions  and  began  to  show  signs  of  irritability, 
leaving  the  bottom  and  coming  to  about  mid-water, 
evidently  making  frantic  efforts  to  get  free  from  the 
hook.  The  water  was  so  muddy  that  although  on  one 
occasion,  by  an  unusually  daring  strain  on  the  tackle, 
I  nearly  succeeded  in  forcing  him  to  the  top,  yet  I 
could  not  gain  the  slightest  glimpse  of  my  prize  or 
form  any  opinion  as  to  its  identity. 

The  fighting  now  became  fast  and  furious;  no  more 
sulking,  but  a  continuous,  rapid,  steady  movement 
around"  and  across  the  pool  until,  at  last,  the  supreme 
moment  arrived  when,  the  prize  lying  directly  under 
me,  I  prepared  to  bring  him  to  the  surface.  Inch  by 
inch,  carefully  I  coaxed  him,  my  expectations  raised 
to  such  a  pitch  that  I  fairly  trembled.  At  last  it 
showed  up,  the  enormous  open  trap  of  a  huge,  gasping, 
fagged-out  old  catfish,  thirty  pounds  in  weight. 

I  was  so  paralyzed  at  the  sight  of  my  captive  as  to 
immediately  drop  everything,  and  if  the  fish  had  not 
been  so  thoroughly  tuekered-out  with  its  previous 
efforts,  I  would  have  lost  him  before  regaining  my 
nerve  and  the  landing-net.  However,  when  I  did  so, 
to  land  him  was  an  easy  matter,  and  I  took  him 
away  back  from  the  water's  edge,  and  there  pondered 
earnestly  and  long  as  to  what  the  dickens  kind  of  a 
fish  it  could  be.  I  had  had  enough  fishing  for  that 
day,  so  I  packed  up  and  started  to  go  home,  taking  the 
Lake  Shore  tracks  as  the  shortest  way. 

About  half  a  mile  down  the  tracks  I  came  across 
a  gang  of  section  hands  at  work;  they  were  all  Swedes 
excepting  the  foreman,  who  was  a  German  and  the 
only  man  speaking  the  American  language.  I  knew 
most  of  these  men  by  sight  and  was  on  pretty  intimate 
terms  with  the  foreman. 


FOURTH    OR    MILTIMORE    LAKE. 


24  FOUETH    OR    MILTIMORE    LAKE. 

"Been  fishing,  Mr.  Johnson?"  he  asked.  "Had  any 
luck?" 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  hardly  know.  I  have  got  a  fish  in 
this  bag,  but  what  it  is  or  if  it  is  good  to  eat  I  cannot 
tell." 

A  look  of  covetous  surprise  went  around  the  group 
when  I  exhibited  rny  fish,  and  the  foreman,  after 
recovering  from  his  astonishment  at  the  sight  of  so 
big  a  fish,  remarked,  indifferently: 

"Well,  I  guess  you  had  better  bury  that  fish  right 
away." 

"Bury  it!"  I  exclaimed,  "why,  isn't  it  good  to  eat?" 

"Good  to  eat!"  he  answered.  "Good  for  nothing! 
Why  it's  a  catfish,  and  deadly  poison!" 

I  was  sadly  disappointed  at  this  intelligence  and 
was  turning  dejectedly  away,  when  the  foreman  hailed 
me,  saying: 

"Here,  Johnson,  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do;  that  fish 
has  got  an  uncommon  fine  head,  and  would  look  well 
mounted,  I'll  give  you  a  dime  for  it!" 

"Here's  the  fish,"  I  said,  "I  don't  want  your  dime; 
I'm  glad  you  saved  me  the  trouble  of  carrying  it  two 
miles  farther  in  the  hot  sun!" 

It  was  two  days  after  that  when  I  heard  what  a 
scrumptious  fish  supper  the  gang  had  eaten  at  my 
expense,  and  for  the  next  few  days  I  could  never  pass 
the  gang  of  section  hands  without  a  broad  grin  dis- 
playing itself  upon  the  features  of  the  Swedes,  and 
hearing  a  bantering  inquiry  from  the  foreman  as  to 
whether  I  was  going  fishing  or  had  another  catfish 
to  sell. 

However,  1  made  up  my  mind  to  get  a  catfish,  and 
one  morning— rigged  up  with  a  strong  pole  and  suit- 
able tackle — found  me  again  at  the  same  pool.  I  fished 
hard  all  day  and  was  about  giving  up  in  disgust  when, 
sure  enough,  I  had  a  good  strong  bite,  but  nothing  to 
compare  with  my  previous  one.  After  about  ten  min- 
utes' fight  I  landed  him  and  this  time  it  was  a  long, 
snaky  looking  fish  with  small  wicked  eyes,  weighing 


FOURTH    OR    MILTIMORE    LAKE.  25 

about  eight  pounds  and  looking  something  like  a 
pickerel,  but  I  knew  it  wasn't  a  pickerel.  Triumph- 
antly I  bore  my  priz.e  away,  down  the  track,  until  I 
met  the  section  gang.  Every  one  of  them  suspended 
work  immediately  I  arrived,  and  clustered  around 
with  great  interest. 

"Well,  I'll  be  goldarned  if  Johnson  ain't  been  and  got 
a  big  dogfu'h  this  time,"  the  foreman  exclaimed. 

"A  what?"  I  asked,  in  indignant  protest. 

"It's  a  dogfish,  sure,  and  the  rottenest  kind  of  fish 
that  swims;  why,  you  can't  eat  that  thing!" 

"Come,  now,"  I  exclaimed,  getting  angry,  "this  is  too 
stale;  here,  the  first  fish  I  showed  you  you  tell  me  is  a 
catfish,  unfit  to  eat,  yet  you  fellows  have  the  treat  of 
your  lives  making  a  supper  off  it,  and  now  you  think 
jou  can  kid  me  again.  Not  much!  But,  now  see  here, 
boys,  you  can't  do  it,  for  this  fish,  no  matter  what  kind 
of  a  fish  it  is,  a  dogfish,  cowfish,  horsefish,  or  any 
blarsted  animal  fish  you  like  to  call  it,  no  matter  what 
funny  name  you  like  to  give,  I'll  take  that  fish  home, 
cook  and  eat  a  couple  of  pounds  of  it  if  I  die  five 
minutes  afterward.  No,  no!"  I  muttered,  as  I  shoul- 
dered my  fish  and  walked  away,  "you  'conned'  me  once, 
but  you  can't  work  that  old  game  on  me  again." 

When  I  arrived  at  my  bachelor  establishment,  I  cut 
a  good,  generous  three-pound  steak  from  the  shoulder 
of  the  fish,  boiled  it  and  on  principle  made  the  fish 
gorge  of  my  life.  For  the  next  two  weeks  the  medical 
gentleman  from  the  nearest  town  called  regularly  at 
"Johnson's  shack,"  as  my  little  frame  house  was 
called;  and,  during  that  time,  the  many  neighbors  who 
came  to  inquire  how  I  was  progressing  never  got 
further  than  the  door— the  everlasting  retching  which 
greeted  their  ears  leaving  them  in  doubt  as  to  whether 
Johnson  was  in  the  last  throes  of  hydrophobia  or  re- 
linquishing his  intestines  piecemeal. 


CROOKED  LAKE. 


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CHAPTER  III. 

CROOKED  LAKE.       O'LEARY'S    GOOSE. 

I  have  asked  several  persons  who  are  supposed  to 
know: 

"Why  is  Crooked  Lake  so  named?  With  the  excep- 
tion of  one  man,  everybody  I  asked  unhesitatingly 
answered: 

"Because  it's  so  crooked,  of  course." 

The  exception  referred  to  was,  I  think,  the  only 
truthful  one  of  my  informants,  for  after  pondering 
deeply  for  a  few  moments  he  turned  around  and 
frankly  admitted  he  did  not  know  and,  furthermore, 
not  feeling  interested,  didn't  care  a  bean.  Personally, 
I  do  not  think  Crooked  Lake  takes  its  name  from  the 
irregularity  of  its  shore  lines,  for  if  this  was  the  case 
nearly  every  lake,  with  few  exceptions,  that  I  know 
would  have  to  be  called  Crooked  Lake  also. 

Many,  many  years  ago,  when  I  was  a  young  fellow 
of  seventeen,  during  a  tour  in  Switzerland  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  young  German  named  Muller,  a 
devil-may-care  young  student,  just  fresh  from  the  uni- 
versity; we  became  great  chums,  clubbed  our  slender 
finances,  and  for  two  months  traveled  together  and 
became  inseparable.  He  was  the  most  rollicksome, 
beer  bibbing,  aggressive  mortal  it  ever  has  been  my 
lot  to  meet,  yet,  withal,  an  unassuming,  gentle-hearted 
creature,  incapable  of  knowingly  hurting  a  fly. 

During  this  trip  we  cudgeled  our  brains  to  devise 
the  most  absurd  legendary  lore  regarding  the  many 
points  of  scenic  interest  in  which  the  country  is  so 
prolific.  Did  a  tall,  jutting  rock  of  some  peculiarly 
striking  shape  require  a  name  and  befitting  history 
we  supplied  it.  Did  some  particularly  monstrous 
chasm  in  our  opinion  lay  claim  to  special  importance, 

(27) 


28  .CROOKED    LAKE. 

we  gratified  it,  in  most  cases  interweaving  a  chain 
of  events  portraying  the  proverbial  love-lorn  beautiful 
darnsel,  the  despairing  lover  and  the  wicked  villain, 
ending  with  a  tableau  of  tragic  action  in  which  the 
point  of  interest  found  a  conspicuous  part.  With  as- 
siduous perseverance  we  traced  back  to  the  darkest 
ages  the  why  and  the  wherefore  of  the  many  sights 
of  interest  to  the  tourist,  supplying  data,  romance,  the 
supernatural  and  blood-curdling  historic  events  "se- 
cundum  artem;"  and  in  those  cases  (which  were  ex- 
tremely numerous)  where  authentic  information  failed, 
supplying  the  deficiency  from  our  imaginations. 

We  flooded  the  smaller  journals  with  our  communi- 
cations on  this  siibject;  and,  as  the  old  adage  says, 
"In  throwing  mud  some  sticks,"  so  it  was  in  this  case; 
although  most  of  the  older  and  more  experienced 
papers  refused  to  accept  our  versions,  still  many  of  the 
smaller  ones  gave  credence  to  our  fairy  tales  and  cir- 
culated much  information  which  became  accepted,  and 
has  since  been  embodied  in  many  of  the  guide  books 
of  the  locality.  I  remember  at  the  time  we  both  con- 
sidered ourselves  public  benefactors  and  entitled  to 
the  thanks  and  general  homage  of  the  Swiss  public  at 
large. 

I  have  no  doubt  if  my  friend  Muller  was  now  on 
hand  he  could,  without  greatly  discommoding  his  in- 
ventive faculties,  invest  the  various  waters  of  the  lake 
region  with  an  amount  of  interesting  legendary  lore, 
possibly  of  the  Hiawathian  kind,  which,  although  it 
might  give  rise  to  much  discursive  comment  and  sur- 
prise among  the  older  residents,  would  still  have  to 
be  received  in  silence  because  of  their  inability  to  con- 
tradict it.  At  any  rate,  I  am  confident  that  if  young 
Muller  was  only  on  hand  and  given  half  a  chance 
in  this  matter,  I  should  not  have  to  confess  my  inability 
to  furnish  any  interesting  history  regarding  the  deriva- 
tion of  the  names  of  the  various  waters  which  I  am 
to  mention  in  these  articles 

Crooked  Lake  affords  very  fine  pickerel,  perch  and 


CROOKED    LAKE.  29 

bass  fishing.  Its  general  characteristics  regarding 
sport  are  something  like  those  of  Sand  Lake,  either 
big  catches  of  large  fishes  or  a  total  blank,  but  unlike 
Sand  Lake  in  this  respect— the  blank  days  are  not 
nearly  so  frequent. 

The  best  bass  ground  is  that  in  the  deepish  water 
on  both  sides  of  the  bar,  and  even  when  the  bass  are 
feeding  in  a  desultory  fashion  and  lacking  vim  in  biting 
in  other  portions  of  the  lake,  the  ground  surrounding 


"THAT  DHOUL  OP  A  BHURU  WAS  HARDER 
THAN  ROCK  ITSELF" 

the  bar  will  generally  be  found  to  yield  a  fish  or  two 
if  perseveringly  coaxed.  The  lily  pads  on  the  east 
side  of  the  lake  contain  very  large  bass,  and  that  spot 
is  splendid  evening  fishing. 

Minnows,  frogs  and  artificial  baits  all  have  their 
respective  admirers,  but  I  am  convinced  from  personal 
experience  the  ground  around  the  bar  will  yield  bigger 
catches  to  the  angler  who  uses  minnows  than  any  other 


30  CROOKED    LAKE. 

bait,  artificial  or  otherwise.  For  fishing  the  deeper 
reaches  of  any  water  minnows  are  unquestionably  the 
best  bait,  and  I  think  the  next  best  all-round  bait  is 
a  spoon  and  pork  rind.  With  a  minnow  the  angler  can 
dwell  on  his  cast,  allowing  the  bait  to  make  short 
periodical  stops  during  its  progress  through  the  water, 
thus  giving  a  not  over  hungry  fish  the  opportunity  to 
seize  it;  but  with  the  spoon  and  pork  rind  the  lure  has 
to  be  kept  on  the  move  all  the  time,  otherwise  its  al- 
luring powers— the  spin— are  wanting.  The  most  killing 
shape  in  whlich  to  cut  a  pork  rind  is  to  take  a  strip 
about  two  and  one-half  inches  long  and  one  inch  wide, 
cut  a  forked  fish  tail  in  one  end  and  similar  forks  to- 
ward the  center,  one  on  each  side  of  the  strip,  and 
trim  the  remainder  to  one-half  inch  in  width;  then  in- 
sert one  of  the  treble  hooks  in  the  narrow  end.  This 
size  is  about  right  to  use  upon  a  No.  4  Skinner  spoon. 

This  bait  is  a  most  killing  lure  for  both  bass  and 
pickerel;  the  pendant  tails  of  the  pork  rind  dangling 
and  swaying  when  drawn  through  the  water,  in  a  par- 
ticularly seductive  and  enticing  manner.  In  many  in- 
stances a  fish,  when  not  feeding  well,  particularly  after 
a  protracted  cold  spell  toward  the  end  of  the  season, 
wiill  refuse  to  pursue  the  too  quickly  receding  artificial 
bait,  when  the  same  fish  would  seize  a  mirfnow  which 
lingers  sufficiently  long  in  its  vicinity  to  allow  of  its 
being  mouthed  without  too  much  exertion. 

In  fact,  with  all  predatory  fishes,  unless  they  are 
feeding  freely,  the  more  leisurely  the  bait  is  drawn 
through  the  water  the  better  are  the  chances  of  catch- 
ing them. 

The  nearer  the  temperature  of  the  atmosphere  to  that 
of  the  water  the  better  fishes  feed.  If  the  air  is  chilly, 
providing  the  water  is  the  same,  sport  may  be  had;  if 
the  water  is  warm,  the  atmosphere  should  be  warm 
also.  After  a  continued  spell  of  hot  weather  the  water 
becomes  thoroughly  warmed  and  the  advent  of  a  cold 
wind  or  cooler  temperature  will  cause  the  fishes  to 
cease  feeding  as  though  by  magic.  During  a  hot  spell 


CROOKED    LAKE.  31 

the  more  humidity  there  is  in  the  atmosphere  the  better 
fish  take  the  bait.  The  moon  unquestionably  exercises 
a  great  influence  on  the  feeding  habits  of  fish.  As  the 
moon  approaches  its  full  fish  display  less  inclination 
to  feed  during  the  day,  and  as  the  moon  wanes  fish 
will  be  found  to  give  better  sport  to  the  angler. 

Through  the  warmer  months  fish  will  seize  a  bait 
nearer  the  surface  than  duning  the  colder  ones,  and 
after  the  first  spell  of  chilly  weather,  generally  about 
the  latter  end  of  October  or  commencement  of  Novem- 
ber, the  bait  must  be  sunk  deeper  in  the  water  to  en- 
sure its  being  taken. 

No  living  thing  is  so  susceptible  to  the  immediate 
influence  of  heat  and  cold  as  a  fish.  Change  of  tempera- 
ture will  at  once  influence  its  feeding  humor.  Fishes 
are  cold-blooded  and  it  takes  heat  to  stir  them  into 
activity,  whereas  cold  engenders  torpidity  and  inaction 
with  less  desire  for  food. 

One  of  the  oldest  and  most  familiar  frequenters  of 
Crooked  Lake  is  Cook  County  Commissioner  James 
Munn,  who  has  taken  probably  more  large  catches 
from  its  water  than  any  other  angler  living.  It  was 
while  fishing  Crooked  and  the  surrounding  lakes  that 
Mr.  Munn  first  conceived  the  idea  of  the  weedless 
hook  which  now  bears  his  name.  I  know  that  many 
anglers  have  an  antipathy  to  a  weedless  hook,  on  gen- 
eral principles,  but  there  is,  unquestionably,  excellent 
fishing  water  in  the  lake  region,  teeming  with  large 
fishes,  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  fish  without  a 
weedless  hook;  and  my  experience  of  the  Munn 
weedless  is  that  it  allows  a  man  to  make  big  catches 
in  such  places  which  would  be  inaccessible  to  the 
ordinary  uuguarded  hook- 

I  had  an  aunt  once,  an  Irish  lady  who  by  some  means 
or  another  had  slipped  into  our  family  before  I  was 
born.  Her  name  was  Fatima  O'Dowd,  a  jovial,  dear, 
good-humored  old  lady,  possessing  a  rich  brogue  and  an 
extensive  unentailed  estate  in  North  Donegal.  With- 
out intentional  disrespect,  we  boys  and,  in  fact,  all  the 
3 


32  CROOKED    LAKE. 

family,  had  dropped  into  the  habit  of  alluding  to  her  as 
"Aunt  Fatty,"  and  although  this  nickname  described 
the  dear  old  soul's  appearance  pretty  accurately,  yet 
she  was  never  offended  at  the  nickname.  I  never  see 
Crooked  Lake  without  thinking  of  a  piece  of  water— 
the  very  counterpart  of  Crooked  Lake  in  size,  shape 
and  surroundings— upon  Aunt  Fatty's  Irish  domain, 
filled  with  the  finest  lot  of  large  pickerel  I  have  ever 
seen. 

Dear  old  Aunt  Fatty,  she  is  dead  and  gone  now  many, 
many  years,  and  among  her  many  peculiarities  was  that 
of  not  allowing  any  game  to  be  killed  upon  the  estate, 
or  a  fish  to  be  taken  from  the  river  and  lake  upon  the 
estate.  Yet  she  was  the  warmest-hearted  and  most 
charitable  landowner  in  Ireland,  and  during  many  a 
severe  Winter  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  her 
tenants  if  Aunt  Fatty  had  not  grub-staked  them. 
PJvery  New  Year's  Day  she  would  drive  around  to  her 
tenants  and  ask  them  which  they  preferred,  a  pair  of 
ducks  or  a  goose,  for  their  New  Year's  present.  She  in- 
variably gave  them  one  or  the  other  at  this  period  of 
the  year. 

I  recollect  one  year  every  tenant  wanted  a  goose,  and 
how  to  raise  sixty  geese  was  a  problem  which  sadly 
puzzled  her  on  her  homeward  journey;  so  when  on 
reaching  home  one  of  the  giirls  told  her  Andy  O'Leary 
was  below,  waiting  to  see  her  about  some  geese  he  was 
wanting  to  sell,  down  she  went,  right  away,  to  inter- 
view him. 

"Shure,  Mrs.  O'Dowd,"  said  Andy,  "it's  some  fat 
gee&e  ye'll  be  after  wanting  for  your  New  Year's 
prisintations? 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Aunty;  "sixty  birds." 

"Sixty  bhurds,  Is  it?"  Andy  echoed;  "why,  shure, 
Ma'am,  its  jist  the  selfsame  amount  I'm  after  offering; 
every  blessed  bhurd  as  tender  as  a  colleen's  conscience 
and  plump  and  foine-looking  as  your  own  swate  silfj 
and,"  added  Andy,  sinking  his  voice  to  a  confidential 
whisper,  "the  price  to  you  is  only  a  shilling  apiece,  but 


CROOKED    LAKE.  33 

for  hiven's  sake  don't  mintion  it  to  a  living  body;  shure 
they'd  boycott  me,  every  mother's  son,  for  asking  less 
than  two  shillings  a  bhurd!" 

Knowing  Andy   to   be  a   pretty    reliable    fellow     in 
bargains   of  this  kind,   after  some   little  talk  Aunty 


"AND  ERECTED  A  MOUND  TO  HIS  MEMORY" 

•• 

consented  to  take  the  birds,  and  Andy  went  away 
happy  with  instructions  to  kill,  draw  and  deliver  the 
geese  to  the  tenants  and  call  up  at  the  big  house  a 
week  later  for  his  money. 

It  was  about  two  weeks  afterward  that  one  of  the 
tenants,  Mrs.  McCarty,  called  to  see  Aunty  on  some  af- 
fair of  trifling  import  and  Aunty  casually  asked  her 


34  CROOKED    LAKE. 

how  she  had  enjoyed  her  New  Year's  goose.  At  this 
query  Mrs.  McCarty  became  terribly  embarrassed. 

"By  all  the  saints  in  hiven,  Ma'am,"  she  replied,  "  'tis 
an  onmintionable  subject  in  our  house;  and  the  tough 
unholy  baste  lies  this  niinit  on  the  top  shelf  of  thv, 
cabin,  unaten." 

"Why,  you  surprise  me,"  said  Aunty,  "for  Andy 
O'Leary  assured  me  his  geese  were  all  young  and 
tender!" 

"Andy  O'Leary!"  screeched  Mrs.  McCarty;  "and  is  it 
to  that  murthering  rascal  I'm  risponsible  for  me 
throuble?  Why,  Mrs.  O'Dowd,  Ma'am,  begging  your 
ladyship's  humble  pardon  for  spaking  of  it,  I  boiled 
that  blaggaard  of  a  goose  for  one  whole  night  and  two 
blisised  days,  before  ever  so  much  as  the  prong  of  a 
fork  could  make  a  dent  on  his  leathery  old  carcass; 
and  it's  roasted  arid  well  basted  before  a  slow  fire  it 
was  for  jist  another  day,  by  little  Mickey;  and  then  I 
thought,  'surely  'tis  tinder  and  atable  the  bhurd  should 
be  now!'  But,  Mrs.  O'Dowd,  dear,  thrue  as  I'm  shtand- 
ing  here  in  your  prisince,  that  dhoul  of  a  bhurd  was 
harder  than  rock  itsilf !  WTasn't  it  me  husband  who  at- 
tiiwpted  to  gnaw  a  bite  of  mate  from  the  terrible  thing 
and  broke  off  short  the  only  three  teeth  in  his  face;  and 
wasn't  it  little  Mickey,  who's  now  at  home  wid  his  jaw 
cracked  and  me  best  woolen  scarf  round  his  innercent 
little  skull  to  keep  his  little  face  straight  at  all,  at  all, 
because  the  unthinking  little  gossoon  imagined  he 
could  chate  the  bhurd's  leg  of  a  bite  of  grissle?  Oh, 
Mrs.  O'Dowd,  'tis  sorra  the  day  you  prisinted  me  wid 
that  garralikin  of  a  bhurd!" 

As  Aunty  had  received  no  complaints  from  the  other 
tenants,  she  felt  sure  that  some  mista"ke  had  been  made 
by  Andy,  and  finally  persuaded  Mi's.  McCarty  to  go 
over  to  Andy's  cabin,  and  find  out  the  facts  of  the  case; 
at  the  same  time  counseling  her  to  make  the  necessary 
inquiries  in  a  peaceable  and  neighborlike  manner. 

Mrs.  McCarty  started  on  her  errand  and  soon  arrived 


CROOKED    LAKE.  35 

at  the  O'Leary  residence,  where  she  was  -welcomed  in 
the  most  cordial  manner  by  Mrs.  O'Leary  and  informed 
that  Andy  was  not  at  home.  After  the  first  greetings 
were  over  and  a  little  preliminary  chat  had  been 
broached,  Mrs.  McCarty  came  straight  to  the  matter  in 
hand. 

"Mrs.  O'Leary,"  she  said,  putting  on  her  most  per- 
suasive smile  and  best  company  manners,  "Oi  would 
loike  to  know  where  Andy  found  that  devil  of  a  goose 
he  left  at  my  cabin  two  weeks  ago?" 

"Shure,  darlint,  I'll  tell  you,"  the  other  replied,  "  'twas 
old  Patsy;  me  husband,  the  Lord  forgive  him,  killed 
the  bhurd  by  mistake,  and  'tis  mesilf  that  haven't  done 
crooning  and  lamenting  for  the  loss  of  my  old  favorite 


"Old  Patsy!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  McCarty;  "who's  old 
Patsy  ?" 

"Why,  Mrs.  McOarty,  dearie,  '<is  joursilf  that's 
aware  me  maiden  name  was  Patsy  before  I  married 
that  unthinking  gossoon,  Andy  O'Leary;  and,  bedad, 
'tis  thrue  that  Patsy  and  I  were  gossoons  together. 
Me  father  prisinted  me  wid  the  bhuird  for  a  playmate 
whin  I  was  jist  a  year  old,  and  I'm  jist  sixty-three  years 
this  coming  Michaelmas!" 

"Holy  Katie!"  yelled  Mrs.  McCarty;  "tell  me,  is  it 
thrue  I  attimpted  to  cuke  and  ate  a  goose  sixty-three 
years  old?" 

"Indade  and  'tis,"  sorrowfully  acquiesced  her  old 
neighbor;  "sorra  the  day  such  a  terrible  mishtake  hap- 
pened. But,  Mrs.  McCarty,  darlint,  shure  ye  can  sym- 
pathize wid  me  loss.  I  know  ye  have  never  aiten  the 
poor,  stringy  old  darlint;  send  me  his  ramanes,  if  'tis 
only  Ms  bones,  and  take  a  sorrowing  lone  woman's 
blissing  and  the  fattest  and  best  goose  in  the  pig-stye 
home  wid  yees!" 

The  upshot  of  the  matter  was,  Mrs.  McCarty  de- 
parted with  a  plump  green  goose,  and  well  satisfied 
with  her  old  neighbor's  explanation.  -Old  Patsy's  re- 


36  CROOKED    LAKE. 

mains  were  duly  forwarded  to  the  disconsolate  Mrs. 
O'Leary,  who  buried  her  defunct  favorite  behind  the 
cabin  and  erected  a  mound  to  bis  memory. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CEDAR    LAKE.       TUBBY'S    SECOND    RUN.       A  PATRIOTIC 
LOBSTER. 

There  are  some  persons  of  so  peculiarly  receptive 
temperament  that,  once  an  idea  finds  lodgment  in  their 
brain,  it  remains  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  everything 
else.  Cedar  Lake  is  always  associated  in  my  mind 
with  such  an  individual.  His  name  was  Percy  Regi- 
nald Plantaganet  Tubbs.  It  follows  without  saying  that 
an  individual  bearing  so  luxuriant  an  appendage  of 
given  names  was  of  British  extraction.  According  to 
his  own  version  he  was  a  dark,  dark,  blue-blooded 
aristocrat,  tracing  a  direct  lineal  descent  from  King 
Alfred  of  burnt  cake  renown;  but  according  to  the  re- 
port of  his  bosom  friend  and  fellow  refugee,  Jimmy 
Smith,  Tubbs,  or  Tubby  as  we  always  called  him,  was 
the  result  of  a  common-law  marriage  between  a  Bill- 
ingsgate fish  girl  and  a  Shoreditch  bogle  jerker,  or  in 
other  words,  one  of  those  industrious  individuals  in- 
digenous to  all  large  cities,  who  nnd  pocketbooks  before 
they  are  lost. 

However,  it  is  not  of  Tubbs'  pedigree  I  would  speak, 
but  rather*  of  his  angling  exploits.  The  first  time  I 
fished  Cedar  Lake  I  took  Tubby  with  me,  intending  to 
initiate  him  into  the  mysteries  of  pickerel  fishing. 

The  first  day  I  had  to  run  over  to  Waukegan  on  busi- 
ness. But,  before  doing  so,  I  took  Tubby  down  to  the 
lake,  rigged  him  out  with  suitable  tackle,  and  a  big 
bob  float  beneath  which  dangled  an  unusually  large, 
lively  chub.  My  principal  instruction  to  Tubby  was 
the  following: 

"When  a  pickerel  takes  the  bait,  let  him  have  it  un- 
til he  makes  the  second  run;  then  strike  him!  But,  on 
(37) 


38  CEDAR    LAKE. 

no  account,  strike  him  until  he  does  make  the  second 
run." 

After  fixing  him  up  all  right  and  telling  him  what 
time  to  expect  me  back,  in  the  evening,  I  jumped  into 
the  buggy  and  was  about  to  start,  when  away  went 
Tubby's  big  float  with  a  terrific  rush,  evidently  tugged 
at  by  a  large  fish.  On  looking  at  my  watch  I  found 
there  was  barely  time  to  catch  my  train,  so  calling  to 
Tubby  to  remember  my  directions,  and  on  no  account 
to  strike  until  the  fish  made  the  second  run,  I  drove 
away. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  I  returned  to  the 
hotel  and  Tubby  had  not  come  in  from  the  lake.  I 
called  a  couple  of  the  boys  and  we  hurried  off  to  the 
spot  at  which  I  had  left  Tubby  in  the  morning.  There, 
in  the  gathering  gloom,  we  found  him,  eagerly  watch- 
ing his  rod,  with  rapt  attention,  oblivious  to  everything 
around. 

"Hallo,  Tnbby,  old  man,  any  luck?"  I  asked. 

"How  the  bloody  blazes  do  I  know  yet?"  he  answered 
pettishly. 

"Well,  old  chap,"  I  said;  "if  after  fishing  for  fourteen 
mortal  hours  in  one  spot,  you  are  unable  to  answer  my 
query,  you  must  be  a  bird  of  a  fisherman." 

"Oh,  rats!"  he  jerked  out,  "the  blarsted  fish  ain't 
made  his  second  run  yet!" 

"What!"  I  roared,  in  amazement;  "do  you  seriously 
mean  to  say  this  is  the  same  bite  I  left  you  with  this 
morning?" 

"Course  it  is,"  he  replied. 

We  took  a  boat  and  by  the  aid  of  a  lamp  followed 
the  line  through  the  wreeds  (for  to  budge  it  an  inch 
by  the  hardest  pulling  we  found  to  be  impossible),  until 
we  ultimately  reached  the  spot  at  Avhich  the  line  term- 
inated in  a  large  bunch  of  weeds,  weighing  about  a 
hundredweight.  This  we  lifted  into  the  boat  and  rowed 
ashore,  where  we  commenced  to  examine  it.  There,  in 
the  very  center  of  the  weedy  mass,  was  Tubby's  hook, 
and  attached  to  it  the  gills  only  of  what  had  recently 


CEDAR    LAKE.  39 

been  an  enormous  pickerel,  which,  judging  from  the 
size  of  the  relic  on  the  hook,  must  have  weighed  at 
least  thirty  pounds;  but  where  the  rest  of  the  fish  was 
the  Lord,  or  more  correctly  speaking  the  turtles,  only 
know. 
Cedar  Lake  is  reached  from  Lake  Villa  Depot,  on  the 


"EAGERLY  WATCHING  HIS  HOD,  WITH  RAPT  ATTENTION" 

Wisconsin  Central,  is  a  trifle  over  fifty  miles  from 
Chicago,  and  affords  excellent  bass  and  pickerel  fish- 
ing. The  fishing  in  Celar  Lake  is  at  its  best  during 
September  and  October. 

The  deep  pickerel  hole  marked  A  on  the  chart  contains 
large  fishes,  but  I  have  never  had  much  success  fish- 


40  CEDAR    LAKE. 

ing  in  the  deep  water,  but  rather  on  the  "ground"  ad- 
joining the  deep  water  and  leading  to  the  fringe  of 
weeds  north  of  the  deep  hole.  I  am  of  the  opinion 
that  large  pickerel,  when  they  retire  to  the  deep  waters, 
do  so  for  privacy  and  concealment,  and  are  not  in  a 
feeding  humor.  The  shallow  pocket  north  of  the 
island  is  one  of  the  best  bass  grounds  for  evening  fish- 
ing in  the  lake. 

The  rocky  bottom  between  the  island  and  the  rush 
bed  on  the  west  point  of  the  island  will  at  times  yield 
fairly  good  sport  to  the  fly  fisherman,  small  and  me- 
dium-sized bass  being  very  plentiful.  It  is  rarely  that 
fly-fishing  for  bass  is  productive  of  large  fishes,  half 
a  pound  to  three-quarters,  with  an  occasional  pounder; 
but  the  sport  that  can  be  enjoyed  with  a  half-pound 
bass  upon  the  fly-rod  is  fully  equal  to  that  of  a  two- 
pounder  upon  the  bait-casting  rod..  Of  course,  the 
smaller  bass  should  be  returned  to  the  water,  and 
nobody  who  claims  to  be  a  sportsman  would 
think  of  retaining  a  bass  under  a  pound  weight  (unless 
the  fish  is  so  injured  as  to  render  its  living  uncertain), 
and  this  is  small  enough  in  all  conscience. 

A  very  fine  bass  ground  for  early  morning  and  late 
evening  fishing  is  that  off  the  weed  bed  on  the  east 
end  of  the  lake,  and  thence  around  the  southern  shore 
of  the  island.  This  stretch  of  fishing  ground,  if  fished 
carefully  when  the  bass  are  feeding  there,  will  gen- 
erally give  the  angler  a  big  catch. 

I  have  generally  found  frogs  to  be  the  best  bait  for 
evening  fishing  in  Cedar  Lake,  on  those  bass  grounds 
adjoining  the  shore  line. 

The  deep  hole  on  the  northeast  spur,  marked  B,  is 
another  excellent  bass  ground.  The  fishes  come  out  to 
feed  in  the  shallower  water  surrounding  it.  The  finest 
catch  of  bass  I  have  ever  seers  taken  by  an  individual 
angler,  from  Cedar  Lake,  at  one  time,  was  that  taken 
six  years  ago  by  my  old  friend  George  Wilberf orce.  He 
came  down  on  the  early  morning  train  one  Saturday, 
started  in  fishing  at  11  a.  m.,  and  left  again  for  Chi- 


CEDAR    LAKE. 


41 


cago  by  the  evening  train;  altogether  he  was  not  ac- 
tually fishing  more  than  four  hours,  and  two  hours  of 
this  time  he  wasted  in  locating  the  ground.  His  catch 
was  nine  black  bass  weighing  thirty-six  pounds,  and  a 
finer  and  more  equal-sized  lot  of  fish  I  have  never 
seen,  considering  the  circumstances  of  the  catch.  His 
bait  had  dwindled  down  to  four  frogs,  an  imperfect 
frog  bag,  during  his  journey  down,  having  allowed  the 
remainder  of  a  dozen  to  escape.  He  carefully  econo- 
mized on  his  bait,  using  only  the  leg  of  a  frog  instead 


/.OW  POCKET 


CEDAR  LAKE 


of  the  whole,  and  with  these  four  frogs  he  caught  the 
nine  bass  mentioned. 

George,  poor  fellow,  is  now  no  more;  but  many  were 
the  delightful  outings  I  enjoyed  in  his  company.  He 
fell  a  victim  to  his  love  of  salmon  fishing,  three  years 
ago,  when  wading  a  particularly  dangerous,  precipi- 
tous-bordered, salmon  pool  in  North  Donegal,  Ireland. 
He  inadvertently  stepped  into  a  deep  hole,  his  waders 
filled  at  the  waist,  and  unable  to  extricate  himself  he 
drowned. 

The  first  time  I  met  George  was  on  the  Furnesia  dur- 


42  CEDAR    LAKE. 

ing  an  ocean  trip  from  Moville  to  New  York.  He  was 
making  a  fishing  trip  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  in  company 
with  three  other  Englishmen.  One  of  them  was  named 
Fitzgerald,  and  the  names  of  the  others  I  cannot  re- 
member. It  was  their  first  visit  to  the  United  States, 
and  Fitzgerald,  like  most  Englishmen  on  their  first 
visit,  viewed  the  customs  and  manners  of  the  country 
in  a  somewhat  supercilious  and  contemptuous  light. 
George  stood  a  dinner  in  New  York  before  we  sepa- 
rated, at  some  hotel,  I  think  as  near  as  I  can  remember 
it  was  the  Bryant  House.  I  shall  never  forget  the  look 
which  the  head  waiter  gave  our  party,  when  Fitzgerald, 
after  we  were  seated  at  the  table,-  putting  on  his  mono- 
cles and  most  killing,  languid  air,  and  after  looking 
at  the  bill  of  fare,  remarked  that  a  freshly  boiled  lob- 
ster would  be  just  the  thing;  adding  in  a  contemptuous 
manner  he  supposed  it  would  be  impossible  to  obtain 
such  a  luxury  in  America.  The  waiter,  with  blood 
in  his  eye,  told  him  he  guessed  he  could  be  accommo- 
dated, so  Fitzgerald  added  a  lobster  to  the  already 
varied  order. 

We  started  in  with  soup.  It  was  vermicelli,  and  re- 
markably good;  but  Fitzgerald  founH  fault  with  it. 

The  wait  between  the  soup  and  the  fish  was  some- 
what protracted,  fully  twenty  minutes,  and  during  this 
interval  Fitzgerald  indulged  in  sarcastic  remarks  about 
the  country. 

However,  presently  the  lobster  made  its  appearance, 
and  such  a  lobster!  Never  before  and  never  since  hav<? 
I  seen  such  a  remarkable  crustacean.  It  appeared  to 
weigh  fifty  pounds,  and  I  think  the  waiter,  out  of  pure 
patriotism,  must  have  scoured  the  country  for  miles 
around  to  obtain  the  largest  lobster  in  existence.  It 
made  its  debut  on  an  enormous  platter,  and  ye  gods! 
what  an  avalanche  of  lobsterian  matter  descended  in 
our  midst  when  it  was  placed  on  the  table.  First  was 
the  body  cut  carefully  in  sections,  each  section  pur- 
posely placed  in  a  position  calculated  to  display  its 
mammoth  proportions  to  the  utmost;  piled  crosswise 


CEDAR    LAKE. 


43 


above  rose  the  smaller  claws  and  crossing  the  whole 
were  the  two  huge  claws,  each  one  a  feast  for  a  dozen 
hungry  men. 

We  all  sat  dumfounded  at  the  spectacle!  Even 
Fitzgerald  was  mum,  unable  to  say  a  word,  while 
the  waiter  stood  by  with  the  most  serious  countenance 
imaginable,  and  glibly  apologized  for  having  to  serve 
us  with  such  a  small  lobster,  stating  that  the  house 
was  out  of  large  ones;  but  as  we  appeared  so  anxious 


"YE  GODS!  WHAT  AN  AVALANCHE  OF  LOBSTERIAN  MATTER 
DESCENDED  IN  OUR  MIDST" 

to  have  lobster  he  had  heavily  bribed  the  cook  to  send 
that  one  to  the  table,  it  being  a  standing  order  of  the 
hotel  that  no  lobster  weighing  less  than  two  hundred- 
weight was  ever  to  be  put  on  the  table,  as  a  lobster 
weighing  less  than  that  lacked  the  peculiar  delicious 
flavor  and  piquancy  so  much  sought  after  by  epicures. 
"Holy  smoke!"  was  all  the  astounded  Fitzgerald  could 
gasp,  "if  this  is  a  small  American  lobster,  what  in  the 
world  are  the  big  ones  like?" 


44 


DEEP  LAKE  AND  SUN  LAKE. 


DEEP  LAKE 


CHAPTER  V. 

DEEP  LAKE  AND  SUN  LAKE.   TOMMY  AND  THE  GOAT. 

Instead  of  teaching  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot,  I 
have  endeavored  to  instil  into  the  mind  of  Johnson 
Junior  a  due  appreciation  of  the  delights  of  fishing.  A 
trip  for  perch,  three  weeks  ago,  so  enthused  my  oldest 
son  Tommy  that  he  has  since  been  able  to  think  and 
speak  of  nothing  but  fishing. 

At  the  present  moment  Tommy  is  laid  up  for  repairs, 
is  in  the  deepest  disgrace,  and  bears  the  general  ap- 
pearance of  a  small  boy  who  has  inadvertently  run  up 
against  a  thrashing  machine.  This  state  of  affairs  is 
all  due  to  Tommy's  attempt  to  prematurely  enjoy  the 
pleasure  of  playing  and  killing  a  large  fish,  or,  more 
correctly  speaking,  a  big  goat  of  the  William  species. 

It  appears  that  Tommy  was  so  brimful  of  the  day's 
sport  he  had  with  the  perch  on  his  memorable  fishing 
trip,  that  he  talked  the  matter  over  with  a  neighbor's 
boy,  and  they  mutually  agreed  it  would  be  splendid 
fun  to  hook  something  big,  to  chase  it  around  in  turns, 
and  hold  the  rod  alternately,  just  to  see  how  it  would 
feel  to  have  something  big  pulling  at  the  top  of  a 
fish  pole.  After  much  confab  it  was  decided  the  some- 
thing big  in  this  instance  should  be  an  old  billy  goat 
belonging  to  one  of  the  neighbors. 

Tommy  and  his  fellow  conspirator,  by  the  judicious 
presentation  of  a  plug  of  tobacco,  succeeded  in  de- 
taching the  goat  from  his  usual  pasture  of  odds  and 
ends,  and  inveigling  him  into  our  back  lot  when  the 
rest  of  the  family  were  away.  They  thoughfully  bor- 
rowed my  favorite  Bethabara  casting  rod,  fixed  up  the 
reel,  and  having  rigged  it  up  with  an  extra  strong 
running  line  and  big  hook,  Tommy  took  the  rod  for 
the  first  innings.  The  neighbor's  boy  fixed  the  hook 
(45) 


46          DEEP  LAKE  AND  SUN  LAKE. 

firmly  in  the  goat's  hindquarters  and  commenced  to  do 
the  chasing. 

The  ungrateful  goat,  unable  to  appreciate  the  humor 
of  the  situation,  refused  to  be  chased,  for  after  one 
swift  run,  and  the  eniittance  of  one  heartrending 
bleat— during  which  he  made  almost  superhuman 
efforts  to  extricate  the  hook— he  returned  at  express 
speed  and  commenced  a  most  malignant  assault  upon 
Tommy.  My  beautiful  Bethabara  rod  was  reduced  to 
splinters,  and  Tommy— when  the  goat  was  through 
with  him— was  the  most  dilapidated  small  boy  for 
many  miles  around.  The  tribute  of  the  neighbor's 
boy  to  the  goat's  fit  of  indignation  was  the  quickest 
sprint  of  his  life,  and  one  of  the  neighbors  who  hap- 
pened in  at  the  finale  informed  me  confidentially  that 
he  never  saw  a  kid  make  better  time  in  a  flat  race  in 
his  life. 

I  am  deeply  thankful  I  have  never  encouraged 
Tommy  to  go  gunning.  His  nature  is  so  imitative  and, 
withal,  so  extremely  ardent  in  everything  he  under- 
takes, that  I  feel  sure  he  would  have  taken  my  shotgun 
and  borrowed  a  few  of  the  neighbors'  babies  to  practice 
upon. 

Deep  Lake  and  Sun  Lake  are  two  others  of  the 
several  lakes  located  in  the  near  vicinity  of  Lake  Villa 
Depot,  on  the  Wisconsin  Central,  whose  waters  afford 
good  pickerel  and  bass  fishing. 

Many  of  the  best  fishing  grounds  in  Deep  Lake  are 
comparatively  open  and  free  from  surface  weeds,  en- 
abling the  angler  to  use  a  spoon  to  advantage;  in  fact, 
several  of  the  oldest  frequenters  of  Deep  Lake,  who 
are  noted  for  their  big  catches,  fish  principally  with  a 
spoon  and  short,  bait-casting  rod. 

There  is  quite  a  knack  in  using  a  spoon  with  the  bait- 
casting  rod  in  those  places  where  surface  vegetation 
occasionally  appears.  The  spoon  has  to  be  cast  lightly 
(great  care  being  taken  that  the  reel  does  not  over- 
run), and  then  recovered  quickly  and  brought  toward 
the  angler  before  it  can  sink  and  catch  the  weeds. 


DEEP  LAKE  AND  SUN  LAKE. 


47 


Fishing  with  the  spoon  is  much  more  exciting  sport 
than  fishing  with  minnows,  insomuch  that  the  spoon 
is  used  near  the  surface,  and  the  fish  when  striking  it 
is  obliged  to  break  the  water.  This  also  applies  to 
fishing  with  live  frogs  in  the  patches  fringing  the 
rush  beds. 

The  bass  ground,  marked  A  on  Sun  Lake,  is  an 
exceptionally  fine  fishing  ground  whenever  the  fishes 
are  feeding. 

From  the  icehouse  on  the  south  point  of  Deep  Lake, 


"AND  COMMENCED  A  MOST  MALIGNANT  ASSAULT  UPON 
TOMMY" 

on  both  sides  of  the  bank  of  bass  weeds  and  grass,  Is 
fine  bass  fishing.  The  best  pickerel  ground  is  found 
on  the  east  side  of  the  lake,  as  shown  on  the  map. 
The  deep  hole  in  the  north  end  of  the  lake  contains 
large  bass  and  pickerel,  but  unless  the  weather  is 
somewhat  chilly  it  is  best  to  fish  the  surrounding 
rush  beds  immediately  adjoining. 


•IN 


HASTINGS    LAKE. 


"I  MANAGED  TO  CRAWL  AND  CLING  TO  THE  SLOPE  CLEAR  OF  THE 
WATER" 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HASTINGS     LAKE.          MY     POETICAL     FISHING     FRIEND. 
ANGLING  FOR  AN  OTTER. 

When  but  a  callow  youth,  I  used  to  go  a-fishing  with 
a  young  man  of  the  same  age  as  myself.  He  was  a 
gentle,  lamb-like  creature  with  large  bovine  eyes  and 
long,  black  hair;  uncut  from  the  day  he  was  born.  His 
facial  expression  reminded  one  of  an  old  cow  who 
has  long  ceased  to  trouble  herself  with  the  cares  of 
maternity.  He  was  a  poet,  and  used  to  seek  my  com- 
pany and  the  pleasant  waterside  to  contemplate  loveli- 
ness and  compose  poems.  He  stuck  to  me  with  a  per- 
tinacity that  was  truly  embarrassing,  and  the  only 
reason  I  could  not  rid  myself  of  him  was  due  to  the 
fact  of  being  too  tender-hearted  to  kill  him. 

He  once  wrote  an  ode  to  his  fishing  rod  which  he  re- 
cited to  it  one  morning  just  previous  to  using  it,  and 
the  rod  was  so  utterly  demoralized  it  snapped  into  thir- 
teen pieces  the  first  cast  he  attempted.  I  merely  men- 
tion this  fact  to  show  how  atrocious  his  muse  must 
have  been. 

The  only  time  I  ever  licked  him  was  when  he  at- 
tempted to  read  me  some  verses.  He  called  them 
"Crumblets  of  Angling  Reminiscences."  They  were  as 
follows: 

"The  little  streamlet  on   the  hill, 

Within  the  village  church, 
From   which,   three  weeks  ago  to-night, 

I   collared   that   wall-eyed   perch. 

"Away  beyond  the  hamlet's  reach, 

With   many   a   pout  and   pucker, 
Meanders    the   tiny   rivulet 

Where  I  cinched,  that  eight-pound  sucker. 

"And  just  below   the  garden  patch 

Of    Mickey    Doolan's    shanty, 
Is   the  alder  tree    that  sheltered  me 

While  I  made  the  bullheads  ante." 

The  method  by  which  at  last  I  rid  myself  of  him  was 
(49) 


50  HASTINGS    LAKE. 

an  introduction  to  a  sweet  little  girl  cousin  of  mine,  at 
the  same  time  hinting  he  was  a  young  gentleman  of 
wonderful  parts  and  great  expectations.  She  bit  right 
away,  and  married  him  three  days  afterward,  thus 
earning  my  everlasting  gratitude. 

I  am  aware  the  above  is  not  in  any  manner  con- 
nected with  the  avowed  subject  of  this  article,  and  I 
merely  introduce  it  as  a  warning  to  those  weak-minded 
brothers  of  the  angle  whom  the  delightful  environ- 
ments of  their  pursuit  might  seduce  from  the  dutiful 
path  of  angling  to  that  of  the  sinful  and  unpardonable 
practice  of  bad  verse  making. 

Hastings  Lake  lies  about  half  a  mile  east  of  Crooked 
Lake,  and  although  fairly  well  fished  of  late  years,  it 
still  holds  its  own  in  the  matter  of  sport  to  the  angler. 
There  are  plenty  of  good-sized  bass  and  pickerel  within 
its  waters,  and  big  catches  are  often  made  by  those 
fishermen  acquainted  with  the  locality.  Hastings  Lake 
is  a  trifle  further  from  Lake  Villa  Depot  than  most  of 
the  lakes  in  the  vicinity,  hence  comparatively  few  of 
the  anglers  who  stop  off  at  Lake  Villa  ever  fish  it. 

There  is  but  one  slight  bar  in  the  lake;  it  is  in  the 
deepest  water,  leading  to  the  rush  line  on  the  east  side. 

The  lake,  all  round  inshore,  affords  excellent  bass 
fishing.  Off  the  point  of  the  bar  is  good  perch  ground. 
The  pickerel  ground  is  all  around  the  lake  line  leading 
to  the  deepish  water.  Small  frogs  are  the  best  bait 
to  use  when  fishing  for  bass  near  inshore,  and  minnows 
when  fishing  for  pickerel  in  the  deeper  waters  adjoin- 
ing. The  best  trolling  water  will  be  found  on  the 
north  and  east  shores. 

The  sportsman  who  has  never  hunted  or  fished  in  the 
vast  tangled  wilderness  of  the  Far  West  can  form  no 
conception  of  the  arduous  work  and  appalling  diffi- 
culties he  has  to  surmount  in  his  journeyings.  My  old 
friend  Cap'  Riley  of  Portland,  Ore.,  one  of  the  best 
known  elk  hunters  in  the  state,  has  often  remarked  it 
was  worth  a  hundred  dollars  to  get  a  pair  of  elk's 
horns  out  from  the  wilderness  into  the  confines  of 


HASTINGS    LAKE.  51 

civilization;  and  I  fully  agree  with  him  in  this  asser- 
tion. The  foothills  and  mountains  are  one  mass  of 
tangled  underbrush,  Immense  treefalls  and  sinuous  In- 


JAMES  KING 


INIEJ  ffo/V 
CHoOffD  L,"" 


HASTINGS  LAKE 


tergrown  vines,  through  which  the  sportsman  must 
pick  and  creep  his  way  in  the  slowest  and  most  tedious 
manner.  Here  a  mammoth  butt  of  fallen  pine  to  sur- 
mount; there  a  thicket  of  intricate  and  seemingly  im- 


52  HASTINGS    LAKE. 

passable  vine  maple  to  crawl  through,  varied  by  vast 
mounds  of  upturned  soil  and  deep  holes. 

It  was  early  one  morning,  in  1893,  I  left  my  ranch 
on  a  spur  of  the  Bear  Mountain,  in  Cowlitz  County, 
for  a  day's  salmon  fishing  in  the  Kalama  River,  four 
miles  north.  The  nature  of  the  surroundings  necessi- 
tated my  taking  even  this  short  distance  a  two  days' 
trip  if  I  wished  to  spend  a  few  hours  on  the  stream. 
A  short  bait-casting  rod,  revolver,  hunting  knife,  and  a 
few  pounds  of  beans,  with  a  morsel  of  salt  pork,  was 
all  I  dared  to  load  myself  with.  My  object  on  this 
trip  was  to  satisfy  myself  whether  a  salmon  would 
take  a  spoon  bait. 

I  started  in  at  the  Kalama  Creek,  which  ended  in 
the  Kalama  River,  and  fished  the  larger  pools  on  my 
way  down,  picking  up  a  half  a  dozen  large  rainbow 
trout  and  returning  the  Dolly  Vardens  and  cutthroats, 
as  this  species  of  trout  are  called,  to  the  water;  I  reached 
the  Kalama  River  about  three  in  the  afternoon,  and 
after  fixing  up  camp  started  in  for  the  evening  fishing. 

The  spot  I  selected  was  a  spacious  rocky  basin, 
shaped  not  unlike  a  huge  bowl,  with  precipitous  rocks 
rising  either  side  several  hundred  feet  in  height,  the 
sides  studded  with  a  scant  growth  of  stunted  under- 
brush and  here  and  there  spanned  by  the  huge  trunk 
of  some  fallen  pines.  The  pool  was  probably  fifty  feet 
wide  in  the  center,  ending  some  forty  yards  below  in 
a  fall  of  about  fifteen  feet.  The  current  was  unusually 
strong  and  rapid.  I  intended  to  skirt  this  pool  on  its 
shallowest  side,  hugging  the  rocky  wall  on  my  left 
until  I  reached  a  big  rock  which  stood  out  high  and 
dry  overlooking  the  fall. 

I  donned  my  waders,  strapping  them  tightly  around 
my  waist,  and  slipped  over  my  head  an  old  inflated  air 
cushion  to  provide  against  an  accidental  submersion. 
Experience  has  taught  me  the  value  of  this  precau- 
tion, and  I  would  advise  every  angler  who  wades  rapid 
streams  with  deep  holes  to  wear  either  an  inflated  col- 
lar or  a  light  collaret  of  cork  around  his  neck  when 


HASTINGS    LAKE.  53 

wading,  for  if  a  deep  hole  is  inadvertently  stepped  into 
and  the  waders  fill  (which  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  they 
will  do),  the  buoyancy  of  the  collar  will  keep  the  head 
above  the  water  until  a  foothold  can  be  reached. 

After  rigging  up  iny  rod  I  found  I  had  left  my  spoon 
at  home.  This  was  a  poser.  There  I  was,  on  the  most 
magnificent  stretch  of  water  that  ever  greeted  an 
angler's  vision,  without  the  means  of  fishing  it.  How- 
ever, I  concluded  to  try  something;  so  rigging  up  a 
large  pickerel  gang  of  four  treble  hooks  mounted  on 
a  twisted  snell  of  salmon  gut,  each  treble  about  two 
inches  apart,  I  selected  the  biggest  of  the  rainbow 
trout  from  my  creel— a  fish  weighing  nearly  a  pound— 
and  rigged  it  with  the  pickerel  gang  in  just  the  same 
manner  as  though  I  was  about  to  spin  for  pickerel 
with  a  small  minnow. 

When  all  was  ready  I  cautiously  waded  into  the 
pool  almost  to  the  top  of  my  waders,  and  swaying  the 
heavy  bait  made  so  long  a  cast  that,  instead  of  entering 
the  water,  it  lodged  011  a  ledge  of  rock  a  little  above  the 
surface  on  the  opposite  side.  I  allowed  it  to  remain 
there  a  few  moments  and  then  gently  pulled  it  off  into 
the  water,  which  it  entered  in  a  quiet,  noiseless  man- 
ner with  scarcely  a  splash  to  mark  its  submersion.  I 
commenced  to  reel  in  gently,  and  almost  before  I  had 
made  half  a  dozen  turns  of  the  reel  handle  a  long 
brownish  object  appeared  to  rise  from  the  bottom 
like  a  lightning  flash  and  seize  it,  tightening  the  line 
and  bending  my  rod  nearly  double.  Almost  simultane- 
ously with  this  happening,  the  brownish  object  sud- 
denly ceased  its  pull,  and  before  I  could  sufficiently 
collect  my  thoughts  it  shot  across  the  pool  toward  me 
and  came  full  tilt  against  my  legs,  knocking  me  head 
over  heels  into  the  watei. 

I  was  next  aware  of  a  sharp  prick  in  the  calf  of  my 
leg,  of  something  hanging  thereon  and  frantically 
struggling  to  detach  itself,  and  when  I  recovered  a 
precarious  foothold  at  the  end  of  the  pool  to  which  I 
had  been  swept  by  the  rapid  rush  of  water,  I  looked 


54  HASTINGS    LAKE. 

down  and  discovered  the  largest  dog  otter  I  have  ever 
seen  firmly  hooked  through  my  waders  into  the  flesh, 
struggling  like  a  very  demon  to  free  himself,  and  ap- 
parently as  scared  as  I  was  myself  at  the  novelty  of 
the  situation. 

I  attempted  to  scramble  up  the  steep  sides  of  the 
pool  with  my  captive,  but  was  so  flurried  and  scared 
that  little  headway  was  made.  My  waders  were  full 
of  water,  and  this  and  the  weight  of  the  otter  made  it 
hard  work  for  me  to  obtain  any  secure  hold.  How- 
ever, after  what  seemed  to  me  to  be  hours,  I  managed 
to  crawl  and  cling  to  the  slippery  rocky  slope  clear  of 
the  water,  but  could  get  no  farther,  having  by  this 
time,  b'y  the  combined  efforts  of  my  fright  and  scram- 
ble, become  pretty  well  exhausted.  Just  at  this  critical 
moment  the  snell  broke,  leaving  one  set  of  hooks  in 
my  leg,  and  the  other  in  the  otter,  who  dropped  into  the 
water  with  a  loud  splash  and  disappeared  immediately. 
Rid  of  my  burden,  with  much  labor  I  managed  to  crawl 
to  a  more  secure  resting-place. 

I  took  off  my  waders  and  found  that  such  was  the 
force  of  the  struggle  the  strong  Mackintosh  of  iny 
waders  had  been  torn  some  three  inches  down,  and  the 
hook  was  so  deeply  imbedded  in  the  flesh  that,  instead 
of  resorting  to  the  old  method  of  turning  the  barb  out- 
ward and  bringing  the  shank  through  after  it,  I  had  to 
cut  quite  deep  into  the  flesh  to  extricate  it,  making 
quite  a  good  sized  wound.  However,  I  stopped  the 
bleeding  with  some  tobacco  leaves,  and  limped  home, 
wondering  whether  it  was  possible  that  I  could  ever 
meet  with  a  more  strange  happening  than  that  which 
had  just  occurred. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
HUNTLEY'S  LAKE.     SWALLOWING  A  FISH-HOOK. 

I  remember  some  three  years  ago  fishing  Huntley's 
Lake  with  Tom  McGee.  Tom  is  now  somewhere  in 
Canada,  whither  he  went  in  search  of  health.  He  was 
an  individual  who  liyed  under  the  impression  that  a 
portion  of  his  liver  was  missing,  a  thin-faced,  jaundice- 
complexioned  little  fellow,  always  suffering  from  some 
imaginary  complaint  or  another  and  at  the  same  time 
hunting  for  a  remedy  for  that  disorder.  Every  few 
weeks  he  would  make  the  appalling  discovery  that  one 
or  another  of  his  internal  organs  was  either  hopelessly 
deranged,  missing  altogether,  or  else  turned  topsy- 
turvy. When  I  first  knew  him  he  had  run  the  whole 
gamut  of  his  internal  economy,  from  his  gall  to  his 
sweetbreads,  and  was  then  arriving  at  the  firm  con- 
viction that  an  accident  at  birth  had  deprived  him  of 
his  proper  share  of  liver. 

The  amount  of  medicine  that  Tom  always  traveled 
with  was  immense.  I  have  many  a  time  seen  him  while 
playing  a  large  fish  suddenly  recollect  himself,  lay  down 
his  rod,  look  at  his  watch  and  solemnly  remark:  "Exact 
time  for  medicine,  Charley,"  and  after  deliberately 
measuring  out  and  swallowing  the  required  quantum 
resume  his  rod  and  pull  in  his  fish. 

On  the  day  referred  to,  when  Tom  and  I  were  fishing 
in  Huntley's  Lake,  nothing  was  biting  but  the  perch 
and  they  were  biting  furiously.  They  recalled  to  my 
memory  the  novel  punishment  our  old  schoolmaster 
used  to  inflict  on  us  when  I  attended  school  as  a  small 
lad.  How  the  old  villain  would  task  his  ingenuity  in 
this  direction!  Latin  grammar  was  a  stumbling  block 
which  always  tripped  me  up,  my  conjugation  of  the 
verbs  being  abominable.  I  would  "amo,  amas,  amat," 

(55) 


56  HUNTLEY'S    LAKE. 

etc.,  until  I  fairly  got  sick  of  the  whole  thing  and  knew 
less  at  the  end  than  I  did  at  the  commencement.  "Old 
Pepper,"  as  we  boys'  called  our  pedagog,  would  set 
some  offending  boy  in  a  corner,  after  school  hours,  and 
selecting  some  absurd  word  would  compel  him  to  con- 
jugate it  in  all  its  known  and  unknown  moods  and 
tenses.  There  was  an  old  colored  aunty  living  next 
door  to  the  schoolhouse  who  did  the  cleaning,  and  one 
afternoon  (owing  to  some  misbehavior  on  my  part)  the 
word  masticate  was  given  me  by  Old  Pepper  to  prac- 
tice the  usual  grammarian  gymnastics  upon.  For  two 
mortal  hours  I  declaimed:  "I  masticate;  thou  masti- 
cates; he  masticates;  she  masticates;  it  masticates;" 
etc.  The  old  daiiky,  coming  along,  listened  outside  the 
schoolhouse  window  to  my  edifying  ranting  for  about 
twenty  minutes,  and  then  lifting  her  hands  in  wonder- 
ment, exclaimed  loudly:  "For  de  Lawd's  sake,  wheu- 
eber  will  dat  der  boy  hab  done  eating?" 

It  was  the  same  thing  with  the  perch  on  the  occasion 
of  which  I  am  writing.  If  the  old  lady  had  been  there 
I  am  sure  she  would  have  lifted  her  hands  and  snid: 
"For  de  Lawd's  sake,  wheneber  will  dem  dere  perches 
hab  done  feeding?"  Never  before  or  since  have  I  seen 
perch  feed  so  voraciously,  they  fairly  jumped  out  of 
the  water  for  our  bait.  One  particularly  large  perch 
(it  must  have  weighed  quite  two  pounds,  and  I  have 
never  seen  a  larger  one),  which  Tom  caught,  swallowed 
the  hook  almost  before  the  bait  touched  the  water. 
Tom  was  in  a  hurry  to  resume  fishing,  and  in  attempt- 
ing to  disgorge  the  hook  the  snell  broke  off  short,  leav- 
ing the  hook  away  down  in  the  gullet  of  the  perch. 
Throwing  the  fish  on  one  side,  Tom  remarked: 

"By  Jove,  Charley,  I'll  have  that  all  to  myself  for 
supper  to-night,"  and  went  on  fishing. 

Two  hours  of  such  sport  satisfied  us,  and  selecting 
about  a  dozen  of  the  largest  fishes,  we  gave  the  re- 
mainder to  some  youngsters  who  were  fishing  near, 
packed  up  our  traps  and  went  home. 

Mrs.  Tom  cooked  our  fishes  that  evening,  and,  after 


HUNTLBY'S    LAKE.  67 

a  very  hearty  supper,  during  which  Tom  had  appro- 
priated for  his  sole  benefit  the  large  perch  as  he  had 
promised  he  would,  we  sat  down  outside  the  veranda, 
and  while  Tom's  wife  did  some  sewing  Tom  entertained 
me  with  small  talk  on  his  innumerable  ailments.  All 
at  once,  without  a  moment's  warning,  Tom  bounded 
about  six  feet  into  the  air,  let  out  a  yell  that  scared 


"I'M  A  DEAD  MAN;  I'VE  SAV  ALLOWED  THAT  FISHHOOK" 

everyone  within  the  ward,  and  approaching  me  with  a 
white,  scared  face,  exclaimed: 

"Charley,  I'm  a  dead  man;  I've  swallowed  that  fish- 
hook! Oh,  what  a  cussed  fool  I  was  to  eat  that  big 
perch!" 

"Stuff  and  nonsense,"  I  answered,  "you  couldn't  have 
swallowed  a  No.  4  fishhook  without  noticing  it." 

"But  I  did!  I  did!"  he  moaned.  "Oh,  what  a  miserable 
wretch  I  am!  Think  of  the  agonizing  death  in  store 
for  me!  Oh,  Charley,  why  didn't  you  eat  that  perch 


58  HUNTLEY'S    LAKE. 

instead  of  myself?"  he  whined,  pathetically;  "nothing 
ever  hurts  you." 

His  wife  and  myself  tried  to  reassure  him,  telling  him 
how  utterly  preposterous  his  conduct  was,  but  all  to 
no  purpose.  Tom  persisted  he  had  swallowed  the  fish- 
hook, and  as  a  careful  search  of  the  heads  and  entrails 
of  the  fishes  we  had  eaten  for  supper  failed  to  reveal 
the  missing  hook,  nothing  could  convince  him  to  the 
contrary.  After  a  little  while  Tom  began  to  feel  a 
severe  pricking  pain  in  the  abdominal  region,  which 
gradually  grew  worse  and  worse,  until,  at  last,  about 
two  hours  after,  he  was  stretched  upon  a  bed  with 
three  doctors  in  attendance,  and  periodically  uttering 
the  most  heartrending  shrieks  and  cries,  which  he 
averred  it  was  impossible  to  stop,  owing  to  the  pain  he 
suffered.  The  doctors  could  do  nothing,  and  plainly 
intimated  to  Tom's  wife  and  myself  the  only  thing  the 
matter  with  their  patient  was  an  excessive  imagination, 
scouting  the  idea  of  his  having  the  hook  as  perfectly 
ridiculous. 

In  about  another  hour  Tom  got  so  bad  that  I  plainly 
saw  unless  something  was  done  to  drive  the  idea  out 
of  his  head  he  soon  would  become  a  subject  for  the 
coroner.  I  called  Tom's  wife  aside,  and  made  her  bring 
me  Tom's  tackle-box.  After  a  search  I  found  an  old 
hook  of  precisely  the  same  size  and  pattern  as  the  one 
Tom  had  been  using  when  he  caught  that  unfortunate 
perch  in  the  morning.  From  this  hook  I  broke  off  the 
snell  as  near  the  shank  as  possible.  After  some  search- 
ing I  selected  the  biggest  perch's  head  I  could  find,  and 
although  it  was  not  the  head  of  the  big  fish  he  had 
caught  in  the  morning,  yet  it  might  pass  for  it.  I 
fixed  this  hook  firmly  in  the  back  of  its  gills,  saw  that 
everything  looked  natural,  and  assuming  a  joyous  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  burst  into  the  bedroom  in 
which  Tom  lay,  now  seriously  ill,  and  yelled  out  in  an 
exultant  voice: 

"I've  found  that  confounded  old  fishhook,  old  fellow; 
you  never  swallowed  it  at  all,  for  here  it  is!" 


HUNTLEY'S   LAKE. 


60  HtTNfLBY'S    LAKBJ. 

Saying  this,  I  held  up  the  perch's  gills  with  the  fish- 
hook firmly  embedded  therein.  Tom  gave  one  look, 
bounded  off  the  bed,  seized  my  prize  and  examined  it 
carefully,  the  color  meanwhile  returning  to  his  face. 

"Charley  Johnson,"  he  exclaimed,  tragically,  "you 
have  saved  my  life!" 

Twenty  minutes  afterward  Tom  was  perfectly  re- 
covered and  making  a  hearty  meal  of  tripe  and  onions, 
and  unblushingly  I  was  relating  how  and  where  I  found 
the  missing  hook  in  the  fish's  head. 

Three  days  afterward  an  old  Thomas  cat,  the  par- 
ticular pet  of  Tom's  wife,  began  to  visibly  pine  away, 
and  within  a  week  was  a  mere  wreck  of  skin  and 
bones.  Shortly  afterward  it  died  and  Tom,  thinking  it 
had  been  poisoned  by  some  of  the  neighbors,  insisted 
on  making  a  post  mortem  examination  on  its  remains. 
The  first  incision  Tom  made  revealed  to  his  astonished 
gaze  the  identical  fishhook  which  was  supposed  to  have 
caused  him  so  much  internal  turmoil  a  week  previously. 
Really,  I  couldn't  help  laughing  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
situation  when  Tom,  turning  slowly  round  to  me,  gazed 
with  unaffected  surprise,  and  said,  solemnly: 

"Charley  Johnson,  I  will  never  believe  you  again,  sir, 
as  long  as  I  live." 

Huntley's  Lake  is  about  four  miles  north  and  slightly 
east  of  Hastings  Lake,  and  is  reached  from  Lake  Villa 
depot  on  the  Wisconsin  Central. 

The  lake  is  deep  water  off-shore  all  around.  The  bar 
shown  in  the  northwest  is  very  slight,  and  runs  to  the 
deep  hole.  Around  this  hole,  during  chilly  days  and 
also  late  in  the  season,  is  the  best  fishing  ground  of  any. 
The  lake  contains  large  bass  and  pickerel,  but  during 
the  last  few  years  it  has  been  little  fished,  owing,  prob- 
ably, to  its  being  farther  away  than  the  other  lakes. 

I  am  convinced  a  trip  to  this  lake  will  well  repay  the 
angler.  The  best  way  to  reach  and  fish  it  is  to  procure 
a  rig  and  Smith  Wright  as  guide,  from  the  Sand  Lake 
Hotel,  driving  over  in  the  morning  and  returning  in  the 
evening.  This  would  give  plenty  of  time  for  a  good 


HUNTLBY'S    LAKE.  61 

day's  sport.  Smith  Wright  knows  every  hole  and  cor- 
ner of  Huntley's  Lake,  the  best  places  to  fish  and  how 
to  fish  them. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  bait  casters,  the  one  who 
uses  a  fine  casting  line  and  very  light  minnow,  frog, 
spoon,  or  whatever  the  bait  may  be,  without  shot  or 
weight  of  any  description  to  assist  in  casting;  the  other 
uses  a  heavy  line,  big  minnow,  weighty  frog,  or  other 
bait  proportionately  heavy. 

The  man  who  casts  a  light  bait  is  apt  to  look  with 
disdain  upon  the  fellow  who  practices  the  heavy  cast- 
ing tactics,  but  there  are  times  when  heavy  bait-casting 
is  absolutely  essential  to  successful  fishing,  particularly 
in  lake  fishing  where  weeds  are  general.  The  ideal 
fishing  of  the  expert  is  to  make  long  casts  with  a  small 
frog,  light  minnow,  or  spoon,  placing  the  lure  before 
the  fish  with  hardly  a  perceptible  splash.  In  other 
words,  fine  and  far-off  fishing. 

This  style  of  angling  is  necessary  to  successfully 
fish  some  waters,  particularly  those  where  the  water 
is  abnormally  clear  and  free  from  weeds;  but  in  many 
of  the  lakes  of  the  Fox  Lake  region  the  light  style 
of  bait-casting  would  be  productive  of  more  bites  than 
fish.  Most  of  the  fishing  is  done,  if  not  actually  in 
the  weed  patches,  still  so  near  that  the  fishes,  when 
they  make  their  runs  after  seizing  the  bait,  will  have 
to  be  pulled  out  from  them,  thus  making  a  strong 
running  line  absolutely  necessary;  and  to  get  out  a 
stout  casting  line  to  any  distance  a  heavy  bait  is 
imperative.  Personally,  I  always  fish  as  lightly  as 
possible,  and  obtain  more  true  enjoyment  from  deli- 
cately placing  a  small  frog  upon  a  dock  leaf  with  a 
good  long  cast,  and  thence  lightly  flicking  it  into  the 
water  with  the  slightest  splash  possible,  than  from 
any  of  the  heavier  methods  of  casting  which  I  am 
often  compelled  to  pursue. 


62  LAKE   MARIE   AND    BLUFF   LAKE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LAKE  MARIE  AND    BLUFF    LAKE.      SHELLFISH    AND    CLAM 
CHOWDER.     THE  COLONEL'S  PHOTOGRAPH. 

The  first  time  I  fished  Lake  Marie  was  with  my  old 
friend,  George  Murrell.  George  and  myself  had  made 
a  trifling  bet  as  to  who  would  catch  the  most  fish.  Had 
I  been  as  well  acquainted  as  I  am  now  with  the  astute 
diplomacy  of  which  Master  George  is  capable,  I  would 
never  have  gambled  with  him  at  all,  under  any  con- 
sideration. However,  after  fishing  all  day  without  a 
bite,  the  shades  of  approaching  evening  found  us  both 
fishless  and  disgusted: 

"Well,  old  man,"  I  chuckled  to  myself,  "there's  one 
consolation;  you  haven't  won,  anyhow!" 

Premature  joy  on  my  part!  For  the  crafty  rascal 
had  deliberately  placed  a  small  worm  on  his  ho*ok,  and 
coolly  dropped  it  into  the  gaping  shell  of  an  unsuspect- 
ing clam  that  happened  to  be  airing  its  vitals  in  a  shal- 
low puddle  near  by!  The  clam  shut  up  mighty  quick 
when  it  felt  the  worm,  and  George  hauled  it  up  and 
demanded  the  bet.  I  have  often  thought  since  what  a 
fool  I  was  not  to  find  another  clam  and  make  the  bet  a 
tie;  but,  there,  I  never  could  think  of  the  right  thing  to 
do  until  it  was  too  late. 

Speaking  of  shellfish  reminds  me  of  Tom  Jennings. 
There  was  a  fellow  in  New  York  who  had  opened  an 
English  ale  house  and  shell  oyster  bar  in  connection. 
The  oysters  were  opened  by  an  attendant  and  given  to 
the  patrons  on  the  half -shell.  One  day  Tom  Jennings 
strolled  into  the  bar  and  noticed  a  Frenchman  holding 
a  huge  half-shell  in  his  hand,  staring  hard  at  an 
enormous  oyster  which  lay  on  it,  with  an  air  of  wistful 
longing.  Torn  was  always  ready  to  be  agreeable,  and 
thinking  the  Frenchman  was  in  a  quandary,  politely 

5  (63) 


64  LAKE    MARIE    AND    BLUFF    LAKE. 

suggested  that  the  proper  way  to  eat  an  oyster  was 
to  swallow  it  whole.  The  Frenchman  turned  round  to 
Tom  and  asked  him  if  he  could  swallow  the  one  he 
held  in  his  hand. 

"Why,  sure  thing,"  said  Tom;  and  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word,  he  took  the  proffered  bivalve,  and,  with  a 
tremendous  effort,  managed  to  gulp  it  down.  The 
Frenchman  held  up  his  hands  in  admiration  at  the  feat, 
and  exclaimed: 

"Mon  Dieu!  et  es  vonderful;  nine  times  have  I  myself 
el  tried  to  swallow,  and  et  alvays  comes  back!" 

Two  minutes  after  Tom  had  acquired  this  informa- 
tion, the  oyster  again  came  back;  and  Tom,  while 
endeavoring  to  soothe  his  insulted  stomach  with  some- 
thing warm,  swore  softly  to  himself  that  he  would  be 
parboiled  before  he  would  ever  attempt  to  be  polite  to 
a  Frenchman  again. 

Tom  seemed  to  be  xinlucky  in  his  feeding,  for  it  was 
only  three  weeks  before  that  he  had  strolled  into  a 
Bowery  restaurant  and  ordered  clam  chowder.  After 
he  had  eaten  quite  a  considerable  portion,  a  certain 
qualmish  feeling  in  his  stomach  warned  him  something 
was  wrong;  so  he  called  the  darky  who  ran  the  place, 
and  said  he: 

"You  black  rascal!  what  confounded  filth  have  you 
been  feeding  me  upon?" 

"Dat  dar  am  clam  chowder,  sah,  and  berry  good 
chowder,  too." 

"Chowder,  you  dusky  villain,"  answered  Tom,  his 
gorge  rapidly  rising  as  ke  discovered  a  bunch  of  fungus 
in  the  bottom  of  his  plate,  "how  long  has  it  been  made?" 

"Dat  chowder  was  made  last  Spring,  when  I  resumed 
dis  hyar  bisness;  and  ef  de  folkses  on  dis  hyar  street 
don'  dun  eat  hyar  of'ner,  it  am  berry  likely  some  ob  dat 
chowder  will  be  on  han'  nex'  Spring!" 

The  licking  which  Tom  inflicted  on  that  unfortunate 
darky  cost  Tom  forty  dollars  and  costs. 

Lake  Marie  and  Lake  Bluff  are  reached  from  Antioch 
depot  on  the  Wisconsin  Central.  The  two  lakes  are 


LAKE    MARIE    AND    BLUFF    LAKE.  65 

joined  by  a  narrow  channel  bounded  on  each  side  by 
an  expanse  of  floating  sod.  There  is  good  perch,  bass 
and  pickerel  fishing.  This  lake  is  very  much  exposed 
to  the  wind,  and  but  a  slight  breeze  is  required  to 
cause  strong  waves  and  a  choppy  surface.  The  fishes 
will  feed  in  Lake  Marie  in  rough  water,  where  the  same 
surface  conditions  on  many  of  the  other  lakes  would  be 
fatal  sport,  yet  there  is  no  piece  of  water  in  the  whole 


legion  where  fine  and  far-off  fishing  is  so  necessary  to 
secure  a  good  catch  as  in  Lake  Marie. 

The  lake  for  many  years  past  has  been  a  particularly 
favorite  resort  for  the  angler,  and  although  the  fishes 
are  fairly  plentiful  they  are  extremely  shy  and  hard  to 
catch.  The  presence  of  a  boat,  announced  by  the  dip 
of  the  sculls,  will  cause  every  fish  within  a  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  to  scurry  for  shelter,  and  the  only  method  of 
approaching  them  with  any  show  of  success  is  by 


66  LAKE    MARIE    AND    BLUFF    LAKE. 

drifting  in  a  boat,  using  fine  tackle  and  making  long 
casts,  casting  a  minnow  in  the  more  open  stretches  of 
water  and  frogs  for  evening  fishing  in  the  lily  pads. 
There  are  several  hotels  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
the  lake,  most  of  which  send  buses  to  meet  the  trains 
at  Antioch.  There  are  plenty  of  boats,  but  the  angler 
had  better  take  his  own  bait  as  the  supply  at-  the  hotels 
is  uncertain. 

Even  to  an  experienced  angler  Lake  Marie  would 
prove  a  deceiving  piece  of  water.  There  is  so  much 
apparently  good  fishing  ground,  bearing  those  unmis- 
takable fishy  signs  by  which  likely  spots  are  ordinarily 
located— in  the  shape  of  bass  and  pickerel  weeds,  lily 
pads,  with  favorable  formations  of  bottom  and  re- 
quired depth  of  water— that  unless  a  man  is  thoroughly 
posted  or  knows  the  water  he  can  waste  much  valua- 
ble time  in  fishing  those  spots  which,  although  of  an 
inviting  aspect,  are  barren  of  fish. 

The  points  marked  on  the  chart  are  the  best  spots  to 
fish;  and  where  the  angler's  time  is  limited  he  will  find 
it  best  to  fish  one  of  these  points,  and  thence  row  to 
another  without  wasting  time  on  the  intervening 
stretches  of  water.  The  best  bass  ground  is  at  those 
spots  marked  A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  F  and  G.  The  largest 
fishes  are  generally  caught  in  the  bass  weeds  and 
rushes  of  the  deepish  stretch  of  water  at  C,  and  the 
spots  B  and  G  are  exceptionally  fine  yielding  pieces  of 
water  for  bass. 

The  pickerel  hole  just  outside  the  channel  is  the  best 
spot  of  any  in  the  lake  for  pickerel.  Both  sides  of  the 
channel  leading  into  Grass  Lake  are  favorite  resorts  for 
pickerel  also,  particularly  at  those  spots  where  weed 
beds  and  rush  patches  are  found  in  the  middle  of  the 
channel. 

I  recollect  some  four  years  ago  fishing  this  channel 
with  Colonel  Budd  of  San  Francisco.  We  caught 
seventeen  pickerel,  all  good-sized*fishes.  The,  Colonel 
photographed  them,  hanging  the  fishes  up  in  a  row  by 


LAKE    MARIE    AND    BLUFF    LAKE.  67 

their  gills,  with  myself  in  the  picture;  but  owing  to  the 
position  in  which  I  stood  the  fishes  looked  twice  as 
large  as  I  did. 

I  recollect  another  picture,  which  the  Colonel  took 
with  his  camera  once  in  Idaho,  two  years  ago.  There 
were  three  of  us  in  the  party— the  Colonel,  Judge  Mere- 
dith and  myself.  We  were  on  a  trout  fishing  trip  on 
the  Snake  River.  The  Colonel  never  traveled  without 
his  camera,  for  he  was  a  regular  kodak  fiend  and  missed 
no  opportunity  of  getting  a  snap  shot  at  anything  that 
struck  his  fancy. 

We  were  staying  at  Squire  Mattson's  house,  one  of 
the  finest  residences  in  the  state.  One  morning  just 
after  breakfast  all  of  us,  including  the  Squire,  were 
lounging  and  smoking  outside  the  front  of  the  house 
discussing  plans  for  the  day's  sport,  when  a  procession 
hove  in  sight  that  made  us  all  wonder  what  in  the  world 
it  could  be.  It  consisted  of  an  old,  mop-haired  granger 
and  his  wife — a  thin,  hatchet-faced,  sour-visaged  female 
in  a  bunchy  calico  gown— with  seven  children,  the 
youngest  about  three,  the  eldest  apparently  nine,  with 
a  year's  difference  in  the  age  of  each,  coming  down  the 
road,  ranged  symmetrically  according  to  size  and  look- 
ing like  an  animated  stairway  of  seven  steps.  The 
party  stopped  when  the  family  reached  us,  and  the  old 
man,  after  gazing  admiringly  around,  said  to  his  wife: 

"Mighty  purty  looking  place,  ain't  it,  Mariah?'' 

His  wife,  who  was  evidently  out  of  temper,  snapped 
out  some  ansAver,  and  addressing  the  bunch  of  small 
fry,  told  them  that  if  their  Pap  wasn't  such  a  doggoned 
lazy  ignoramus  they  could  all  be  living  in  a  better  house 
themselves! 

"Say,  Mariah,"  the  old  man  continued,  without  taking 
the  least  notice  of  his  wife's  slanderous  speech, 
"wouldn't  yoiir  old  Pap  down  East  be  mighty  tickled 
to  see  you  and  me  living  in  a  swell  place  like  this? 
Why,  here's  one  of  them  picture  taker  fellows,"  he 
went  on,  as  he  espied  the  Colonel's  camera  standing 


68  LAKE    MARIE    AND    BLUFF    LAKE. 

by  the  gate.  "Say,  mister,  how  much  would  you  charge 
to  take  us  all  in  first-class,  bang-up  style,  just  like 
Benny  Burton  had  took  last  Fall  to  send  down  South  to 
a  gal  he  was  kind  of  hankering  to  get  hitched  to?" 

The  Colonel  entered  into  the  humor  of  the  thing,  and 
offered  to  give  them  a  picture  for  nothing. 

"Jee  whiz!"  the  old  chap  said;  "that's  real  good  of 
you,  and  say,  Mariah,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  wife, 
"we'll  be  took  right  here,  and  send  the  pictur  away 
back  East  to  yer  old  Pap,  and  he'll  surely  show  it  to 
the  neighbors  and  they'll  think  as  how  the  house  be- 
longs to  us  and  we  are  right  smart  fixed!" 

His  wife,  who  commenced  to  take  some  interest  in 
the  proceedings  at  this  stage,  began  to  fix  her  hair  and 
tidy  the  youngsters.  They  were  certainly  the  merriest, 
healthiest  and  dirtiest  looking  lot  of  litfte  urchins  I 
have  ever  seen. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  the  Squire  remarked  to 
me;  "we'll  fix  the  whole  crowd  up  in  style,  and  give  the 
old  fellow  a  chance  to  ring  in  the  biggest  bluff  of  his 
life  on  his  folkes  away  back  East." 

Saying  this,  Mattson  went  into  the  house  and  shortly 
returned  with  a  plug  hat,  frock  coat,  and  some  female 
finery"  which,  although  slightly  the  worse  for  wear,  was 
good  enough  for  the  purpose.  With  these  in  his  hand 
he  escorted  the  whole  crowd  to  the  barn,  took  them  in, 
and  telling  them  to  rig  themselves  out,  left  them.  About 
ten  minutes  afterward  the  old  fellow  and  his  wife,  with 
the  children,  made  their  appearance,  the  children 
gazing  with  open-mouthed  awe  on  their  transmogrified 
parents. 

"Say,  Squire,"  the  old  man  remarked,  "this  is  real 
good  of  you  to  cotton  to  us  in  this  fashion;  durn  me  ef 
I  don't  feel  as  ef  I  ain't  sole  proprietor  of  everything 
on  the  place." 

Mattson  got  out  his  best  gig,  mounted  his  driver  .on 
the  box,  the  couple  took  their  places  with  the  kids  ar- 
ranged according  to  their  age  in  the  front,  and  the 


LAKE    MARIE    AND    BLUFF    LAKE.  69 

Colonel  took  the  picture.  The  old  man  told  us  they 
lived  on  a  small  ranch  about  seven  miles  up  the  river. 
He  and  his  wife  had  settled  there  about  twelve  years 
previously,  and  with  the  exception  of  the  large  family 
of  youngsters  they  were -as  poor  as  when  they  came. 
The  Colonel  promised  to  send  them  the  picture  when  it 
was  finished,  and  after  disrobing  themselves  of  the 
borrowed  finery  away  they  went. 

About  five  weeks  afterward  I  was  walking  down  the 
main  street  of  the  little  town  six  miles  from  the 
Squire's  house,  when  I  came  across  the  old  man  driving 
a  pair  of  dilapidated  mules  with  an  old  broken  wagon 
attached.  He  stopped  at  once  when  I  hailed  him. 

"Well,  old  chap,"  I  said,  "how  did  the  photograph 
come  out?" 

"Gol  darn  the  pictur,  anyway,"  he  answered,  testily; 
"Mariah  and  I  sent  it  to  her  Pap,  with  a  letter  saying 
as  how  we  had  more  stock  and  land  than  we  knew 
what  to  do  with,  and  money  to  burn,  thinking  it  would 
kind  of  make  Marian's  folks  think  how  smart  we  wus; 
and  threw  in  a  hint  that  in  writing  back  they  ought  to 
address  the  letter  to  Squire  Gawk  instead  of  calling  me 
plain  Jimmy  Gawk  as  they  was  used  to.  Sure  enough, 
Marian's  Pap  writ  back,  and  said  as  how  now  we  was 
so  well  fixed  he  would  leave  the  farm  to  Mariah's 
brother  Tom;  and  that  Mariah's  old  Uncle  Abe,  who  had 
died  three  days  after  he  received  our  letter,  had  altered 
his  will  directly  he  saw  it  and  left  as  fine  a  section  of 
grazing  land  as  could  be  found  in  the  state  to  Mariah's 
seventh  cousin,  sayin'  he  guessed  we  wouldn't  need  it, 
anyhow.  And  there's  a  hull  pile  of  my  old  neighbors 
wrote  to  tell  me  they're  all  coming  on  here,  and  looks 
to  me  to  stake  'em  until  they  gets  fixed,  sayin'  that  ef 
an  old  galoot  like  me  can  get  so  well  fixed  as  I  am 
they  reckon  they'll  be  runnin'  for  gov'nor  before  they've 
been  here  six  months.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  that 
since  the  news  has  came,  there's  no  livin'  with  Mariah, 
she's  so  pesterful  and  mean  and,  of  course,  woman- 
like, lays  all  the  blame  on  me.  Well,  well,"  the  old  man 


70  LAKE    MARIE    AND    BLUFF    LAKE. 

said,  moodily,  as  he  drove  away,  "I  guess  everyone 
makes  a  doggoned  ass  of  himself  sometime  or  another; 
but  of  all  the  ornerest,  softest,  bedrock  old  jaybirds 
that  ever  was,  that  indoovidual  is  myself!" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FIRST  OR  GAGE'S  LAKE.     AN  EMBARRASING  POSITION. 
THE  INCIDENT  OF  AN  IRON  POT. 

I  have  been  in  several  embarrassing  positions  in  my 
life.  Once  when  a  young  man  just  emerging  from  my 
teens,  while  bathing  in  what  I  considered  a  sufficiently 
sequestered  spot  to  insure  perfect  privacy,  a  young 
lady  came  along  and  sat  down  on  the  rock  under 
which  my  clothes  were  concealed.  She  had  a  novel 
which  she  commenced  to  read,  and  the  work  must 
have  been  of  absorbing  interest,  for  she  read  for  fully 
half  an  hour  without  any  signs  of  letting  up  or  mov- 
ing on.  Meanwhile  I  had  taken  refuge  in  a  rush  bed, 
about  fifty  yards  away,  from  which  I  was  anxiously 
awaiting  her  exit.  The  water  was  cold  and  I  was  at 
last  in  sheer  desperation  obliged  to  acquaint  her  with 
the  fact  of  my  presence.  She  was  a  young  lady  of 
quick  discernment,  for  grasping  the  situation  in  an 
instant,  simultaneously  with  the  piercing  shriek  which 
evidenced  her  discovery  of  my  proximity  she  vacated 
the  spot  with  the  celerity  of  a  frightened  hare. 

Another  time,  when  doing  the  fatherly  act  at  Pudgy 
Stickel's  wedding,  I  was  chosen  as  the  most  proper 
person  to  donate  the  bride  (pretty  little  Arabella  Wil- 
kins)  to  my  old  friend  Pudgy.  Things  got  so  mixed 
up  that  the  ceremony  was  all  but  performed  before 
it  was  discovered  that,  instead  of  giving  the  bride 
away,  I  had  been  mistaken  by  the  purblind  old  parson 
who  performed  the  ceremony  for  the  bridegroom,  and 
was  receiving  her  instead.  However,  things  were  set 
right  at  the  last  moment,  and  Pudgy — who  was  un- 
earthed from  behind  a  pew  in  a  complete  state  of 
nervous  prostration — was  put  in  my  place  and  received 
his  bride  with  the  last  line  of  the  marriage  service. 
(71) 


72  FIRST    OR    GAGE'S    LAKE. 

These  are  but  two  of  the  inany  times  in  which  I 
have  been  what  a  society  person  would  call  "de  trop," 
but  the  worst  of  all  was  an  incident  that  happened 
to  me  at  Gage's  Lake  last  year.  I  was  experimenting 
with  the  fly  when  a  young  lady  came  along,  and  before 
I  was  aware  of  it  I  had  caught  her  securely  in  the  leg 
with  a  No.  4-0  Johnson  Fancy  bass  fly.  Toor  little 
thing!  She  sat  down  and  boohooed  and  sobbed  as 
though  her  heart  would  break,  beseeching  me  in  one 
breath  to  take  the  horrid  thing  away,  and  immediately 
afterward  indignantly  repelling  me  when  I  offered  to 
take  her  at  her  word. 

Eventually  we  compromised,  I  breaking  off  the  leader 
and  escorting  the  badly  scarce]  and  half  fainting  little 
miss  to  the  hotel;  whence,  having  delivered  her  over 
to  the  care  of  the  landlady,  I  made  an  ignominious 
sneak  for  home. 

First  or  Gage's  Lake  is  not  to  be  found  on  the  or- 
dinary maps  which  are  supposed  to  contain  "the  lakes 
of  the  lake  region.  It  is  located  half  a  mile  south 
and  slightly  east  of  Second  Lake,  and  is  reached  from 
Gray's  Lake  Station  on  the  Wisconsin  Central.  There 
is  good  bass  and  pickerel  fishing  to  be  had  in  these 
waters,  providing  the  weather  is  favorable.  But  it's 
all  or  none,  when  fishing  Gage's  Lake;  in  fact,  of  all 
the  lakes  I  know  there  is  none  which  is  so  uncertain 
in  regard  to  sport. 

My  experience  of  Gage's  Lake  is  that  minnows  are 
the  best  all-round  bait  that  can  be  used.  The  water 
just  outside  the  lily  pads  on  the  northern  point  is 
one  of  the  best  spots  for  evening  fishing  on  the  lake. 
Nearer  in-shore  on  the  spot  marked  A  is  the  best  bass 
ground  during  the  colder  months,  and  just  outside  the 
fringe  of  bass  weeds  is  good  pickerel  water  at  all 
times.  The  extreme  northern  point  is  also  fine  holding 
ground  for  bass,  and  also  the  spot  marked  halfway 
across  on  the  west  shore. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  sights  I  have  ever  wit- 


FIRST    OR    GAGE'S    LAKE.  73 

nessed  happened  while  fishing  Gage's  Lake  this  Sum- 
mer. Smith  Wright,  of  Sand  Lake  Hotel;  Mr.  Charles 
Hamilton,  of  Chicago,  and  myself  were  in  the  boat 
together,  Mr.  Hamilton  rowing,  Wright  and  myself 
casting,  using  minnows  as  bait.  We  came  across  a  small 


pocket  within  the  rushes  where  the  water  at  no  place 
exceeded  nine  inches  in  depth.  The  appearance  of  this 
spot  indicated  bass,  and  Hamilton  placed  the  boat, 
with  scarcely  a  perceptible  ripple  to  disturb  the  water 
in  the  vicinity,  in  the  most  favorable  position  to  com- 
mand it  with  our  casting  rods,  about  eighty  feet  away. 


74  FIRST    OE    GAGE'S    LAKE. 

Wright  made  the  first  cast,  and  simultaneously  with 
his  minnow  lightly  reaching  the  surface  four  big  bass, 
from  as  many  different  corners,  dashed  to  the  center 
of  the  pool  in  a  mad  race  for  the  minnow.  The  lucky 
.  winner  of  the  race,  or  rather  the  unlucky  one  as  it 
turned  out  subsequently,  had  no  sooner  seized  the  bait 
than  he  protruded  his  head  and  shoulders  fully  one- 
third  of  his  length  from  out  the  water  and  commenced 
to  gulp  the  minnow  down,  while  the  other  three  bass 
literally  climbed  over  him  in  their  frantic  efforts  to 
take  the  minnow  away  from  him.  We  plainly  saw 
the  whole  proceeding  and  Wright  giving  him  but  little 
time  for  deliberation  struck,  and  as  the  surroundings 
admitted  of  no  delay  laid  his  rod  down  and  by  the 
aid  of  the  line  yanked  him  away  from  his  quarrel- 
some companions,  and  had  him  in  the  boat  before 
he  could  realize  what  had  happened  to  him. 

I  made  the  next  cast  and  the  same  scene  wa.s  re- 
peated with  three  bass,  instead  of  four,  the  fishes, 
owing  to  the  slight  depth  of  water  and  the  stillness 
of  the  surface,  making  a  wake  like  that  of  a  muskrat 
swimming  across.  This  fish  I  hooked  and  he  also 
came  in  hand  over  hand. 

Wright  made  another  cast,  and  the  two  remaining 
bass  went  for  his  minnow.  He  hooked  one,  but  at 
the  last  minute  lost  him.  Again  I  tried  the  remaining 
bass  with  a  frog,  which  one  took  and  after  hooking 
him  I  lost  him  in  just  the  same  manner  that  Wright 
had  the  previous  one.  The  two  bass  we  had  captured 
weighed  four  and  a  half  pounds  and  five  pounds, 
respectively,  the  larger  one  falling  to  Wright's  rod. 

This  day's  fishing  was  an  eventful  one,  for  shortly 
afterward,  when  making  a  cast  in  rather  deepish 
water,  my  hook  befouled  something  and  after  about 
fifteen  minutes'  patient  wriggling  and  judicious  pull- 
ing we  unearthed  from  the  bottom  a  small  iron  pot— 
heavens  knows  how  many  years  it  had  been  buried 
there — with  my  hook  firmly  fixed  in  the  curl  of  the 


FIRST    OR    GAGE'S    LAKE.  75 

handle.  However,  there  were  no  rare  old  coins  In  it  or 
valuables  of  any  description,  only  some  mud  and  shells, 
and  we  threw  it  back  again  to  bother  some  other 
fisherman  later. 

Speaking  of  iron  pots  reminds  me  of  the  last  time  I 
visited  Ireland,  three  years  ago,  when  Billy  Jackson 
and  myself  found  ourselves  in  a  little  shebang  near 
Kilmacrean,  in  North  Donegal.  We  met  four  English 
tourists  on  the  same  errand  as  ourselves— trout  fishing 
in  the  neighboring  burns.  We  spent  a  most  convivial 
evening  together,  and  during  the  early  part  of  it,  as 
the  company  had  been  at  a  loss  for  a  spittoon  as  the 
Britishers  called  it,  Billy  had  slipped  out  into  the  kitchen 
and  surreptitiously  brought  in  a  large  iron  pot;  and  into 
this  improvised  cuspidor  the  entire  crowd  had  during 
the  evening  paid  ample  tribute.  Just  before  going  to 
bed,  Billy  called  me  on  one  side  and  warned  me  not 
to  eat  any  of  the  chickens  which  would  probably  appear 
at  the  breakfast  table  in  the  morning,  as  he  had  seen 
the  hired  girl  while  picking  them  about  equally  divid- 
ing her  attention  between  the  fowls  and  her  olfactory 
organ.  So  we  made  up  our  minds,  to  stick  to  plain 
potatoes,  and  the  next  morning  made  our  breakfast 
solely  on  the  contents  of  the  huge  collander  of  jacketed 
Murphies  which  graced  the  center  of  the  board.  The 
potatoes  appeared  to  me  at  the  time  of  eating  to  have 
a  smoky  flavor,  and  to  be  of  a  rather  darker  hue  than 
usual. 

Breakfast  finished  we  retired  into  the  little  red- 
curtained  parlor  at  the  back,  for  a  smoke  preparatory 
to  setting  out  for  the  day's  fishing.  Billy  looked  for 
our  cuspidor  of  the  previous  night;  and  at  last,  not 
seeing  it,  he  asked  the  red-haired  Irish  servant  wench 
what  had  become  of  it. 

.    "Sure,  an'  is  it  the  big  iron  pot  ye  be  afther?"  she 
queried.    Billy  nodded. 

"Well,  it's  just  outside  now,"  she  said,  "an'  afther 
bein'  hardly  cooled  since  cukin'  the  praties  ye  ait  for 
breakfasht  this  mornin,!" 


CHITTENDEN  AND  DRUCE  LAKES. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CHITTENDEN    AND    DRUCE    LAKES.       SANDY     M'GREE'S 
EEL    PIE. 

A  friend  of  mine,  a  Mr.  George  Wallace  of  Chicago, 
told  me  last  week  that  he  took  a  silver  eel  weighing 
about  three  pounds  from  Chittenden  Lake  last  July. 
His  catch  was  somewhat  unique,  for  I  have  since  asked 
many  anglers  who  have  fished  the  lakes  for  years 
whether  they  have  ever  seen  or  caught  an  eel  in  its 
waters,  and  their  answer  invariably  has  been:  "No." 

It  is  strange  that  eels  are  not  found  in  great  numbers 
in  these  lakes.  Everything  is  favorable  for  their  exist- 
ence—plenty of  feed,  a  muddy  bottom  in  which  to 
secrete  themselves  during  the  colder  months,  and 
gravelly  shallows  in  which  to  scour  at  nights  for  food. 
Added  to  this  the  eel  is  a  most  delicious  eating  fish, 
propagates  very  rapidly,  and  will  travel  long  distances 
at  night  through  the  wet  grass  from  one  piece  of  water 
to  another. 

Speaking  of  eels  reminds  me  of  the  time  when  I  was 
in  Edinburgh,  Scotland,  some  ten  years  ago.  I  was  stay- 
ing with  a  Scotch  friend  who  had  undertaken  to  escort 
me  around  and  show  me  the  sights.  He  turned  round 
to  me  one  evening,  just  as  we  were  coming  out  of 
the  theater,  and  with  that  solemn  air  of  dispropor- 
tionate gravity  with  which  only  a  Scotchman  can  pro- 
pound some  trifling  query,  said: 

"Mon,  ha'  ye  ever  eaten  one  o'  Sandy  McGree's  hot 
eel  pies?" 

"An  eel  pie,"  I  answered;  "what  the  deuce  is  an  eel 
pie?" 

"An  eel  pie,"  my  friend  asserted,  "is  the  most  luscious 
and  delicious  combination  o'  pastry  and  fish  ye  ever 
tasted!    Gang  along  and*  we'll  baith  buy  one." 
(77) 


78  CHITTENDEN    AND    DRUCE    LAKES. 

Saying  this,  he  seized  rny  arm  and  hurried  me  through 
several  tortuous  small  passages  and  by-streets  until 
at  last  he  stopped  at  the  entrance  of  a  small,  dismal- 
looking  shop,  lighted  by  an  oil  lamp.  Into  this  shop  we 
went  and  an  old,  shriveled-up  specimen  of  humanity, 
whom  my  conductor  addressed  as  Sandy,  dived  his 
hands  into  a  tin  resemblig  a  hot  tomale  can  and  pro- 
duced two  small  double-crusted  pies,  which  he  handed 
over  to  us  in  exchange  for  a  fourpenny  bit. 

"Wait  until  we  got  on  the  "bus,"  my  friend  said, 
"and  we'll  eat  them." 

A  few  moments  after  we  had  climbed  to  the  top  of 
one  of  the  many  double-decked  buses  at  the  corner 
of  a  badly-lighted  thoroughfare  thronged  with  people 
anxious  to  get  home  for  the  night.  The  seat  I  occupied 
overlooked  the  street  and  the  pie  in  my  hand  certainly 
smelled  so  tempting,  if  the  gravy  which  was  dripping 
from  it  was  any  criterion,  that  I  prepared  to  eat  it. 
The  pastry  was  a  soft,  doughy  pie  evidently  somewhat 
underdone.  As  I  raised  it  to  my  mouth  and  prepared  to 
take  the  first  bite,  a  tall,  well-dressed  Scotchman  stand- 
ing directly  underneath  me  looked  up  to  hail  our 
driver,  and  at  the  same  instant  the  hot  juice  from  the 
interior  of  the  pie  burst  forth  and  scalded  my  fingers 
so  badly  that  involuntarily  I  let  it  drop.  That  eel  pie 
landed  squarely  on  the  tall  gentleman's  upturned 
visage,  bespattering  him  with  the  almost  boiling  eon- 
tents. 

The  surprised  look  he  wore  when  the  pie  struck  him 
was  followed  by  such  an  intermingled  torrent  of  horri- 
bly anguishing  howls  and  Scotch  profanity  that  the 
whole  neighborhood  was  aroused.  Two  policemen 
hurried  up,  but  before  he  could  wipe  his  face  suffi- 
ciently clean  and  collect  himself  to  explain,  the  driver— 
who  was  unconscious  of  my  escapade— whipped  up  his 
horses  and  we  were  hurried  away;  for  which  it  is 
needless  to  say  1  was  profoundly  thankful.  My  friend, 
after  devouring  his  pie  in  silence  and  wiping  his 
whiskers,  simply  turned  and  coolly  remarked: 


CHITTENDEN    AND    DRUCE    LAKES.  79 

"Eh,  mod!  it's  a  great  peety  ye  wasted  your  pie;  it's 
four  bawbees  clean  gone.  But,  if  that  chiel  had  only 
caught  ye  wouldn't  he  have  given  ye  fits?" 

Chittenden  and  Druce  lakes  are  about  a  mile  in  a 
southeasterly  direction  from  Fourth  or  Miltimore  Lake. 
They  are  reached  from  Rollins  Depot  on  the  Wisconsin 
Central.  Plenty  of  buses  and  conveyances  meet  the 
trains,  and  an  abundant  supply  of  boats  will  be  found 
on  the  lakes.  A  good  point  to  start  from  is  the  Mallory 
Hotel  on  Druce  Lake,  rowing  from  the  landing  below 
the  house,  following  the  shore  northward  and  around 
the  lake  until  the  channel  is  reached  which  leads  into 
Third  Lake.  The  waterway  between  the  two  lakes 
is  generally  dry  in  the  Summer,  necessitating  a  portage 
of  about  a  hundred  yards,  hence  it  is  advisable  to  take 
the  lighest  boat  that  can  be  obtained.  The  north  shore, 
just  outside  the  rush  bed,  is  good  bass  fishing  right 
into  the  mouth  of  the  channel.  The  best  pickerel 
ground  is  just  off  the  deep  water,  outside  the  rushes, 
on  the  east  side  of  the  lake,  south  of  the  hotel.  There 
is  also  some  good  bass  water  in  the  rushes  south  of 
the  channel. 

Starting  into  Chittenden  Lake  from  the  channel,  it 
is  as  well  to  row  south  to  the  end  of  the  shallow  blank 
bottom,  which  stretches  some  distance  inshore,  until 
the  deepish  water  and  bass  weeds  in  the  southern 
portion  are  reached.  At  this  point  there  is  some 
splendid  fishing  ground,  bass  and  pickerel  being  ex- 
tremely plentiful.  Minnows  are  the  best  bait  that  can 
be  used.  From  there  on  down  to  the  outlet,  on  the 
extreme  southern  end  of  the  lake,  is  the  best  ground 
in  the  lake  during  chilly  weather.  Try  the  bass  weeds 
in  the  deepish  water,  and  if  not  successful  there  try 
within  the  rush  lines.  Sometimes  the  fishes  will  lie 
farther  out  than  at  others,  and  a  hundred  feet  nearer 
in  or  farther  out  from  shore  will  make  much  difference 
to  the  angler.  Proceeding  in  a  northwesterly  -direc- 
tion, a  long  stretch  of  rushes  will  be  found  extending 

quite  a  distance  from  the  shore,  with  moss  and  silk 
6 


80       CHITTENDBN  AND  DEUCE  LAKES. 

weeds  undergrowth  in  the  shallower  water  inshore  and 
bass  weeds  in  the  deeper  stretches,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  patches  of  pickerel  weeds.  This  is  fairly 
good  bass  ground,  but  unless  the  angler  has  plenty 
of  time  before  him  it  will  hardly  pay  him  to  linger  and 
fish  it,  but  rather  to  go  farther  north  until  he  finds  the 
rush  line  diminishes  in  distance  from  the  shore  with 
deeper  water  and  bass  weeds  on  its  margin. 

In  the  northwestern  corner  is  the  inlet  from  Fourth 
Lake,  and  from  there  on  all  around  the  north  shore 
is  as  good  pickerel  and  bass  ground  as  a  man  could 
wish  for.  When  fishing  among  the  lily  pads  in  the 
northwesterly  point  of  the  Fourth  Lake  outlet,  at  even- 
ing, frogs  Avill  be  found  far  preferable  to  minnows. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LONG' LAKE.      A  LESSON  IN  BAITCASTING.      TOBY  SNUF- 
FLES AND  THE  LITTLE   SCHOOL  MARM.        UP 
TO  DATE  BARBERING. 

Once  on  a  time,  when  I  did  not  know  any  better, 
I  offered  to  initiate  a  friend  of  mine  into  the  myste- 
ries of  bait-casting.  He  was  an  alderman,  and  as 
I  was  depending  upon  his  influence  to  obtain  a  gov- 
ernment position  for  a  distant  and  aged  relation, 
namely,  that  of  scrub  lady  in  the  county  dog  pound, 
I  felt  I  could  ill  afford  to  jeopardize  her  future  pros- 
pects by  being  anything  else  than  immeasurably  cor- 
dial and  blind  to  any  questionable  conduct  of  which 
he  might  be  guilty.  Beyond  saying  my  pupil  was  a 
genial,  good-natured,  fat  man,  I  will  not  further  dis- 
close his  identity. 

We  selected  Long  Lake  as  the  scene  of  our  opera- 
tions, and  at  the  end  of  three  hours  he  had  so  far 
advanced  as  to  occasionally  make  a  cast  without  im- 
paling one  or  another  of  those  odd  portions  of  my 
anatomy  which  everlastingly  appeared  to  get  in  the 
path  of  his  hook.  My  ears  in  particular  appeared  to 
bother  him,  for  it  seemed  an  utter  impossibility  for 
him  to  make  three  consecutive  casts  without  stick- 
ing his  hook  into  one  of  them.  In  fact,  whenever  he 
missed  his  hook,  it  got  to  be  the  recognized  thing  to 
search  my  ears  before  looking  further. 

However  the  lesson  was  over  at  last,  and  together 
we  came  ashore;  he  jubilant  at  his  proficiency,  and 
I  mentally  calculating  the  time  which  would  have  to 
elapse  before  the  ragged  edges  of  my  ears  would  cease 
to  resemble  a  broken  mushroom. 

The  amount  of  dodging  I  was  forced  to  keep  up 
during  this  trip  reminded  me  of  my  first  sweetheart 
(81) 


82  LONG   LAKE. 

and  the  difficulties  I  encountered  when  courting  her. 
She  was  a  demure  little  schoolma'am,  as  pretty  as  a 
peach,  just  seventeen  years  old,  and  the  eldest  of 
a  family  of  sixteen  brothers  and  sisters,  all  of  whom 
had  come  into  the  world  with  unfailing  annual  reg- 
ularity. Her  ma  and  pa  were  great  people  for  fried 
chicken,  and  it  was  their  practice  to  let  the  seven 
or  eight  younger  members  of  the  family  lie  around 
the  floor,  gnawing  a  greasy  drumstick  or  dirty  wing 
bone  to  keep  them  quiet  until  their  turn  came  at  the 
table.  Whenever  I  visited  my  charmer  these  kids 
were  the  terror  of  my  life;  for  it  is  needless  to  state 
I  always  wore  my  best  Sunday  clothes,  and  it  cam 
rnacy  was  required  to  keep  my  trousers  unspotted 
and  pet  the  youngsters  at  the  same  time.  The  chil- 
dren were  of  an  affectionate  disposition,  very  fond 
of  me,  and  used  to  select  my  knees  as  the  vantage 
ground  on  which  to  discover  hidden  morsels  of  gristly 
sweetness. 

I  confided  my  troubles  to  a  particular  chum  of  mine, 
one  Toby  Snuffles  by  name,  and  he  generously  offered 
to  keep  me  company,  wearing  a  suit  for  the  occa- 
sion, and  to  amuse  the  kids  while  I  talked  sweet 
nothings  to  my  inamorata.  He  was  a  chuckle-headed, 
pan-faced  and  most  uninteresting  individual,  entirely 
lacking  in  the  refined  ^disposition  and  intellectual  at- 
tainments which  I  possessed;  yet,  strange  to  say,  on 
his  first  appearance  the  young  lady  treated  my  fur- 
ther attentions  with  cold  disdain,  and  before  the  even- 
ing was  fairly  over  had  unblushingly  appointed  my 
rival  as  her  future  daily  escort  from  the  schoolhouse 
to  her  home.  Toby  eventually  married  her.  He  was 
a  gardener  by  occupation,  working  at  Squire  Brown's. 
The  Squire  was  a  noted  horticulturist  and  most  of 
Toby's  work  was  on  the  Squire's  flower  beds. 

When  Toby  asked  the  old  man's  consent  to  marry 
his  daughter,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  attempt  it  in 
a  neat  little  figurative  speech  of  his  own,  and  getting 
the  old  man  into  a  merry  mood  one  evening,  took  the 


LONG    LAKE  83 

little  schoolma'am  by  the  hand,  and  stepping  boldly 
up  to  the  old  gentleman  asked  his  permission  to  trans- 
fer his  daughter  from  the  parental  bed  into  his  own. 
The  old  man  surveyed  the  embarrassed  couple  for  a 
few  moments,  in  thoughtful  silence,  and  then  said: 

"Well,  young  man,  I  have  no  objection  provided  you 
marry  her  first." 

Long  Lake  is  best  reached  from  the  Lake  Villa  depot 
on  the  Wisconsin  Central.  It  is  an  excellent  fishing 
lake,  and  in  my  estimation  ranks  next  to  Fourth  or 
Miltimore  Lake.  Some  of  the  ground  in  the  south- 


east  corner  is  exceptionally  fine  and  contains  very 
large  bass;  in  fact,  it  is  no  unusual  thing  for  an  angler 
to  catch  a  string  of  a  dozen  fine  bass  weighing  from 
two  to  four  pounds  each.  But  this  kind  of  work  is 
usually  the  result  of  expert  bait-casting,  for  there  is 
no  lake  in  the  whole  chain  where  the  novice  or  bungler 
is  more  apt  to  meet  with  disappointment  than  at 
Long  Lake.  In  this  respect  it  is  somewhat  similar 
to  Lake  Marie.  Either  a  good  surface  ripple  is  re- 
quired to  obscure  the  keen  vision  of  the  fishes,  or 
extremely  fine  and  far-off  casting  is  requisite  to  catch 
the  larger  ones. 

Of  course,  all  my  observations  are  intended  to  apply 
to  large  fishes  only,  or,  in  angler's  parlance,  "sizable 


84  LONG    LAKE. 

fish."  Any  bungler  can  catch  small  ones,  hence  I  con- 
sider them  unworthy  a  good  angler's  notice,  and  as  such 
I  do  not  include  them  in  my  comments  beyond  stating 
that  I  have  always  found  small  game  fish  extremely 
erratic  in  disposition,  eagerly  seizing  anything  edible 
without  regard  to  time  or  place.  In  fact,  similar  to 
all  smaller  members  of  any  family— fishy  or  otherwise 
—unformed  in  character,  consequently  irregular  in 
behavior  and  possessing  no  settled  habits  from  which 
to  deduce  data  of  value. 

The  best  evening  fishing  during  the  hotter  months 
of  the  year  is  among  the  lily  pads  on  the  western 
shore,  north  of  Graham's  Hotel,  using  a  medium-sized 
frog  as  bait.  There  is  no  better  water  in  the  lake 
for  good  all-round  pickerel  fishing  than  that  on  the 
southern  shore,  in  the  deepish  water  just  outside  the 
fringe  of  bass  weeds.  There  is  excellent  bass  ground 
in  the  water  just  outside  the  rush  line  on  the  eastern 
shore;  fishing  the  various  depths  of  water  according 
to  the  temperature — on  a  warm  day  in  the  rushes  and 
on  a  chilly  day  in  the  deeper  water. 

I  used  to  fish  Long  Lake  with  old  Peter  Quincy. 
Peter  used  to  row  me,  and  probably  he  knew  more  fishy 
spots  in  the  lake  than  any  other  man  living;  in  fact, 
it  was  entirely  owing  to  his  good  generalship  that  I 
used  to  make  the  big  catches  I  did.  In  his  younger 
days  Peter  had  followed  barbering,  and  away  back 
in  the  fifties  found  himself  in  a  small  Western  min- 
ing town  where,  while  being  shaved  in  the  principal 
barber's  shop  of  the  place,  the  eternal  loquacity  of 
the  man  who  shaved  him  caused  him  to  think  that 
a  deaf  and  dumb  barbering  establishment— with  a 
few  other  needful  modifications — would  prove  a  paying 
venture. 

Within  a  week  he  had  carried  his  idea  into  exe- 
cution, and  his  employes,  in  consideration  of  extra 
salary,  were  solemnly  sworn  to  converse  only  in  the  deaf 
and  dumb  alphabet,  and  under  no  consideration  what- 
ever to  speak  a  word  to  the  customers.  Peter  him- 


LONG    LAKE.  85 

self  followed  the  same  line  of  conduct  and  placed 
a  large  placard  in  the  window  bearing  the  following 
announcement: 


ALL  OUR  EMPLOYES  ARE  DEAF  AND  DUMB, 

EAT  BAKERY  LUNCHES. 
AND  HAVE  WARM  HANDS. 


Within  three  weeks  he  had  closed  up  every  other 
barber's  shop  in  the  town,  and  was  on  the  road  to 
accumulate  a  rapid  fortune,  when  one  day  an  old, 
seedy-looking  pothouse  bum,  possessing  a  flow  of  ar- 
gumentative discourse  on  the  then  political  question 
of  the  day  which  nothing  short  of  a  dynamite  bomb 
could  destroy,  sat  down  in  his  chair  and  began  to 
belabor  the  opposite  party — to  which  Peter  belonged— 
in  such  a  torrent  of  unearthly  profanity  and  biting 
sarcasm  that  Peter,  unable  to  stand  it  any  longer, 
clean  forgot  he  was  supposed  to  be  deaf  and  dumb 
and  talked  back. 

A  stormy  argument  followed,  in  which  his  employes 
and  a  crowd  of  citizens  took  part.  The  shop  was 
dismantled  and  wrecked,  and  it  was  only  the  oppor- 
tune arrival  of  the  entire  police  force  of  the  town 
Which  prevented  bloodshed.  At  the  finish  just  be- 
fore he  surrendered  himself  into  the  hands  of  the  big 
constable  who  arrested  him,  Peter  thoughtfully  kicked 
over  a  naphtha  lamp  which  happened  to  be  burning  on 
the  counter,  and  within  three  minutes  the  shop  was 
in  ashes. 

Two  weeks  afterward  Peter  collected  his  insurance 
and  came  back  East. 


b'G 


ROUND    LAKE. 


ROUND  LAKE 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ROUND  LAKE.   A  QUEER  ADVERTISEMENT  AND  A 
TROUBLESOME  CANINE. 

In  looking  over  the  advertising  columns  of  a  daily 
paper  some  few  weeks  ago,  the  following  advertisement 
caught  my  eye:  "The  advertiser  wishes  to  meet  with 
a  staid,  cheerful  gentleman  of  sporting  proclivities,  one 
who  uses  no  profanity,  tobacco  or  liquor  and  is  fond 
of  prayer." 

This  advertisement  seemed  to  read  somewhat  un- 
canny. I  could  understand  a  quiet,  elderly,  old  fishing 
crank  of  starchy  habits  preferring  for  his  fishing  chum 
a  man  who  neither  drank,  swore  nor  smoked;  but  why 
he  wished  to  associate  with  a  person  fond  of  prayer  I 
could  not  imagine.  My  curiosity  was  such  that  I  was 
obliged  to  correspond  with  the  writer  of  the  advertise- 
ment. I  wrote  him  a  polite  letter  stating  that  although 
forty  years  of  age  I  had  never  yet  indulged  in  any  of  the 
reprehensible  practices  referred  to  in  his  advertisement, 
begging  him  to  communicate  his  reasons  for  such  a  pe- 
culiar request  and  explain  fully  the  tenor  of  the  case. 

Two  weeks  afterward  I  received  the  following  letter 
from  a  gentleman  signing  himself  Rev.  Nolly  Meekum, 
and  mailed  from  a  little  town  in  Texas: 

"My  Dear  Mr.  Johnson:— Your  curiosity  is  very  laud- 
able, and  I  trust  in  this  case  applicable,  but  I  have  a 
brother  whom  I  regret  to  state  must  positively  take  a 
fishing  trip  by  the  doctor's  orders,  for  the  benefit  of 
his  health,  otherwise  he  will  soon  die.  Now  here  comes 
the  troublesome  part  of  the  whole  business.  My  brother, 
who  used  to  chew  tobacco,  now  eats  it;  in  place  of  the 
former  slow  process  of  imbibing  liquor  from  a  drink- 
ing glass,  he  now  employs  a  funnel;  and  his  profanity 
is  such  that  the  intensity  of  his  expletives  often  en- 


88  ROUND    LAKE. 

dangers  thoracic  apoplexy;  and  I  am  sorely  afraid  that 
if  the  arch  enemy  of  mankind  ever  finds  him  in  the 
woods  all  alone,  without  the  intervening  protection  of 
some  Christian  person  capable  of  averting  such  a  calam- 
ity by  powerful  prayer,  he  would  never  return  alive. 
"Yours  very  truly, 

"NOLLY  MEEKUM,  T.  D." 

I  wrote  back  to  Mr.  Meekum  and  respectfully  de- 
clined to  consider  his  proposal,  at  the  same  time  stat- 
ing that  although  I  sympathized  with  him  I  was  afraid 
if  the  gentleman  he  referred  to  was  to  find  his  brother 
and  myself  alone  together  in  the  woods,  the  said  gen- 
tleman might  make  a  mistake  and  take  the  wrong  one, 
and  I  did  not  care  to  take  any  chances. 

My  oldest  fishing  friend,  George  Barker,  possesses  a 
lean,  crafty-looking  nondescript  dog,  and  one  day  this 
Summer,  when  we  were  about  to  start  on  a  fishing 
trip  together  on  Round  Lake,  George  pleaded  so  hard 
for  the  dog  to  come  that  I  weakly  consented.  The  dog's 
name  was  Tiddler,  and  a  worse  canine  abomination  I 
do  not  believed  ever  lived.  He  showed  at  once  by 
his  attitude  he  considered  me  an  individual  antagonistic 
to  his  master,  and  as  such  to  be  carefully  loked  after, 
and  it  was  only  after  an  amount  of  pummeling  and 
licking  on  the  part  of  George  sufficient  to  have  laid 
any  respectable  dog  cold,  that  he  could  be  persuaded 
I  was  neither  a  bone  nor  a  dog  biscuit  imported  for 
his  special  delectation. 

We  were  on  the  lake  three  hours,  and  they  were  three 
of  the  weariest  hours  I  ever  spent  in  my  life.  The 
capture  of  our  first  pickerel— a  fish  of  about  seven 
pounds  in  weight — caused  such  a  manifestation  of  in- 
quisitive interest  in  Tiddler,  that  his  long,  lank  noz- 
zle was  well  into  the  pickerel's  smiling  countenance 
before  we  could  prevent  it,  and  then  the  frightful,  un- 
earthly ki-kowing  wh^cb  followed  was  only  ended  by 
Tiddler  in  desperation  jumping  into  the  lake,  carry- 
ing the  pickerel  with  him.  The  fish  on  feeling  the 
water  relaxed  his  hold  immediately,  and  Tiddler— all 


ROUND    LAKE.  89 

dripping  wet— was  assisted  by  his  master  into  the  boat 
again. 

By  the  vindictive  leer  with  which  Tiddler  favored 
me  when  he  made  his  reappearance,  I  could  plainly  see 
he  blamed  me  for  the  whole  occurrence.  Shortly  after- 
ward I  caught  an  immense  perch,  and  Tiddler— who 
had  been  cogitating  on  the  advisability  of  a  nap  after 
his  bath— thumped  himself  bodily  down  on  the  perch 
just  as  that  fish  was  erecting  the  bristling  spikes  of 
his  dorsal  fin  in  indignation  at  being  so  unceremoni- 
ously hauled  from  his  native  element.  That  time  Tid- 
dler got  it  literally  in  the  neck,  and  a  second  edition 
of  agonizing  ki-kowing,  variegated  by  howls  and  gar- 
nished by  canine  cursing,  followed,  until  a  fisherman 
on  the  shore  a  mile  distant  protested  at  our  apparent 
cruelty. 

In  fact,  I  never  saw  another  dog  who  possesed  the  re- 
markable faculty  of  getting  into  trouble  that  Tiddler  did. 
He  was  seasick,  or  rather  lake  sick,  and  no  sooner  had 
his  stomach  recovered  its  proper  equilibrium  than  he 
was  in  hot  water  again.  In  fact,  such  a  nuisance  did 
he  become  that  we  were  obliged  to  leave  off  fishing 
and  adjourn  to  the  shore. 

Round  Lake  is  a  splendid  piece  of  fishing  water,  and 
is  located  about  two  miles  from  Gray's  Lake  Depot,  on 
the  Wisconsin  Central.  Minnows  are  the  best  all-round 
bait  which  can  be  used.  These  the  angler  should  pro- 
vide, as  the  supply  on  the  ground  is  uncertain. 

Starting  from  Sam  Litwilder's  boathouse,  the  best 
plan  is  to  row  directly  to  the  bass  ground  marked  on 
the  southeast  point,  working  well  in-shore  among  the 
rushes,  and  if  unsuccessful  there  then  try  the  bass 
weeds  further  out,  and  thence  to  the  bass  pocket  on 
the  southwest  corner  just  inside  the  point.  The  other 
two  bass  pockets  on  the  west  shore  should  then  be 
visited,  and  unless  some  Success  has  been  met  with 
at  this  stage  the  angler  may  feel  certain  that  the  bass 
are  lying  in  the  deeper  water;  and  he  cannot  do  bet- 
ter than  to  take  the  lake  all  around,  fishing  in  the  deeper 


90  ROUND    LAKE. 

water  on  the  extreme  edges  of  the  bass  weeds.  While 
fishing  in  this  manner  he  should  row  up  against  the 
wind,  and  then  drift  back  over  the  ground.  In  fact, 
on  every  occasion  that  offers,  work  over  your  fishing 
water  with  the  aid  of  the  wind,  if  possible,  for  it  is  the 
sculls— clumsily  manipulated  in  the  water— which  ac- 
count in  many  instances  for  the  sparseness  of  an 
angler's  catch. 

The  best  pickerel  ground  is  just  off  the  east  side  of 
the  sandbar  adjoining  the  deep  water.  There  is  also 
excellent  trolling  ground  for  pickerel  on  the  edges  of 
the  bass  weeds  on  the  western  side,  and  my  own  ex- 
perience has  proved  that  on  this  ground  a  spoon  is 
preferable  during  that  period  of  the  season  when  the 
water  is  clearing  from  the  annual  visitation  of  algae. 

There  is  one  particular  fish  of  which  the  pot-fisherman, 
with  his  heavy  i-ough  tackle,  thick  pole  and  inartistic 
method  of  using  it,  can  almost  claim  a  monopoly  in  its 
capture,  and  that  is  the  big  pickerel.  It  is  generally 
the  fellow  with  a  big  bob  and  a  strong  line  that  catches 
these  big  fellows.  Let  a  man  anchor  a  boat  in  a  fairly 
deepish  stretch  of  weedy-bottomed  water,  and  dangle 
a  big  lively  chub  in  close  proximity  and  patiently  wait, 
and  it  is  only  a  question  of  time  until  his  pickerelship 
will  come  along  and  grab  it.  Then  there  is  no  wait- 
ing, for  directly  the  big  bob  disappears  the  rod  is  seized, 
and  before  the  astonished  fish  is  aware  of  what  has 
happened  he  is  yanked,  "nolens  volens,"  into  the  boat. 

This  kind  of  angling  is  too  tame  for  the  man  with 
any  true  bred  angling  instinct.  He  cannot  bring  his 
mind  to  such  coarse  and  summary  methods.  He  uses 
a  fine  line,  a  light  casting  rod,  and  endeavors  to  sup- 
ply the  lack  of  strength  in  his  tackle  with  skill  in 
its  use;  but  all  the  skill  in  the  world  Is  inadequate 
to  cope  with  a  large,  powerful  fish  and  a  weedy  bot- 
tom, hence  although  he  maf  have  a  number  of  strikes 
from  large  pickerel  during  the  season  he  rarely  brings 
one  to  the  landing-net. 

It  is  a  noticeable  fact  that  large  pickerel  are  gener- 


ROUND   LAKEJ.  91 

ally  hooked  in  a  very  slight  manner,  often  disengaging 
the  hooks  of  their  own  accord  after  being  caught.  They 
are  not  hooked  sufficiently  secure  to  allow  of  the  long 
battle  which  light  tackle  necessitates.  But  the  same 
fish,  under  the  same  circumstances,  if  pulled  in  right 
away  before  he  has  had  an  opportunity  to  weaken  the 
hold  of  the  hook,  can  often  be  saved;  and  this  is  the 
primary  reason  why  the  pot-fisherman  gets  the  big 
pickerel.  In  fact,  it  is  a  humiliating  point  to  concede, 
but  the  fact  remains  that  in  order  to  angle  for  large 
pickerel  with  any  success  a  man  must  resort  to  pot- 
fishing  with  a  big  bob  and  thick  line,  or  else  troll  with 
a  large  spoon. 

Trolling  is  a  kind  of  middle  course  between  pot-fish- 
ing and  scientific  angling.  It  is  an  invariable  appren- 
ticeship with  which  all  novices  begin  their  angling 
career,  and  is  the  only  method  by  which  an  inexperi- 
enced fisherman  can  hope  to  make  a  catch.  In  deep- 
ish  water  such  as  is  suitable  for  trolling,  a  fish  takes 
little  notice  of  the  boat  as  it  passes  over  him,  and 
the  spoon  trolling  far  behind  the  wake  of  the  boat, 
deep  down  in  the  water  and  within  easy  striking  dis- 
tance, is  very  alluring;  again  in  trolling  the  bait  is 
working  for  the  angler  all  the  time. 


TAYLOR'S    LAKE. 


TAYLORS 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

TAYLOR'S  LAKE.     A  LEGEND  OF  LIMBURGER  CHEESE. 

Somebody  remarked  to  me  last  week  that  it  was  a 
pity  the  carp  had  never  been  introduced  into  the  lakes 
of  Northern  Wisconsin,  as  they  would  have  effectually 
kept  "the  weeds  under.  There  is  no  doubt  the  carp 
would  soon  destroy  the  immense  weed  beds,  but  this, 
instead  of  being  a  blessing,  would  be  an  unmitigated 
misfortune  to  the  angler.  It  is  the  presence  of  the 
weeds  which  give  the  fishes  cover,  allowing  the  smaller 
ones  chances  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  their  ravenous 
and  larger  relations,  and  mature.  In  fact,  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  fish  out  a  weedy  lake  of  any  respectable 
size.  Half  the  large  fishes  an  angler  hooks  are  rarely 
landed,  the  weeds  and  light  tackle  proving  too  many 
chances  in  their  favor.  Again,  at  certain  times  of  the 
year,  the  fishes  feed  partially  on  the  decayed  vegeta- 
tion, and  at  such  times  are  not  nearly  so  eager  for  the 
angler's  bait. 

Speaking  of  carp  reminds  me  of  Hamburger  cheese. 
Once  I  asked  a  Dutchman  the  question:  "Who  discov- 
ered Limburger  cheese?"  He  told  me  it  was  A  relic  of 
barbarism  incidental  to  that  period  when  mankind 
were  so  intensely  phlegmatic  and  apathetically  dis- 
positioned  that  it  necessitated  a  joint  appeal,  to  both 
their  noses  and  palates,  ere  their  gastromonic  faculties 
could  positively  recognize  a  good  thing  when  it  was 
placed  before  them.  I  have  since  ascertained  that 
Limburger  cheese  was  first  produced  in  the  following 
manner: 

Away  back  in  those  extremely  primeval  times  before 
the  Dutch  nation  first  commenced  to  keep  history, 
there  lived  in  an  old  antiquated  castle  on  the  banks 
of  the  Rhine  one  Klotz  Himmell  by  name;  an  individual 

(93) 


94  TAYLOR'S    LAKE. 

who  owned  the  best  part  of  the  surrounding  country, 
kept  a  host  of  clamorous  fighting  retainers,  observed 
no  laws  or  religion  except  those  of  his  own  making, 
and  passed  his  time  in  eating,  drinking  and  carousing 
when  he  felt  good  and  merry,  and  in  kicking  his  re- 
tainers when  he  happened  to  be  morose  and  mean. 
After  many  years  spent  in  this  manner,  old  Klotz's 
appetite  began  to  fail  him;  his  palate  refused  to  recog- 
nize the  piquant  flavor  of  those  former  delicacies  of 
which  he  had  previously  been  so  fond.  Sauerkraut  no 
longer,  as  of  yore,  tickled  his  palate  with  its  delicious 
acidity;  the  huge  blood  puddings  on  which  he  had  been 
wont  to  gorge  with  unpalled  appreciation  of  their 
lusciousness,  became  but  tasteless  matter  in  his  mouth; 
in  fact,  to  briefly  summarize,  the  old  chap  no  longer 
enjoyed  his  victuals. 

Just  about  this  time  things  began  to  get  extremely 
unpleasant;  for,  owing  to  his  fretfulness  and  irritabil- 
ity, Klotz  was  a  misery  to  himself,  and  a  holy  terror 
to  all  around  him.  He  was  stone  deaf,  partially  blind, 
his  sense  of  smell  was  all  but  gone.  Things  had  come 
to  such  a  pass  that  instead  of  eating  four  square  meals 
a  day  in  his  spacious  banqueting  hall  he  scarcely  ate 
four  meals  a  month,  and  then  only  a  little  bowl  of 
mush  and  milk  in  his  daughter's  private  boudo.ir,  sit- 
uated in  a  tiny  turret  stuck  away  up  on  a  remote 
point  of  the  castle.  This  daughter's  name  was  Mary 
Anne,  at  least  that  is  the  nearest  approach  to  American- 
ism that  I  can  translate  from  the  old  manuscript  before 
me. 

Now,  Mary  Anne  was  an  extremely  good  and  pretty 
girl,  doting  on  her  old  father,  and  distractedly  fond 
of  a  good-looking  young  serf,  who  used  occasionally  to 
call  at  the  backdoor  of  the  castle  to  peddle  fish  and 
bananas;  his  name  was  Lym.  The  maidenly  curves 
of  pretty  little  Mary  Anne,  when  she  had  some  three 
months  previously  appeared  at  the  back  door  of  the 
castle  in  her  morning  wrapper  with  the  intention  of 
cheapening  a  big  carp,  had  settled  Lym's  hash  at  first 


TAYLOR'S    LAKE.  95 

sight,  although  both  of  them  were  aware  their  mutual 
appreciation  was  hopeless,  owing  to  the  fact  that  so- 
ciety—which was  just  as  severe  and  hard  in  those 
primeval  times  as  now^-forbade  a  maid  of  high  degree 
to  wed  any  suitor  below  the  rank  of  a  burgher. 

The  old  man  grew  rapidly  worse,  dozens  of  physi- 
cians attended  him  night  and  day,  and  one  afternoon 
—after  a  consultation  of  six  hours'  duration — they  an- 
nounced to  the  weeping  Mary  Anne  that  unless  some 
delicacy  of  marvelous  epicurean  choiceness  could  be 
found,  with  which  to  tempt  the  old  man's  appetite,  he 
would  certainly  starve  to  death.  That  evening  Mary 
Anne  met  her  lover  in  the  little  copse  just  outside  the 
castle  gate,  and  distractedly  weeping  huge,  two-carat 
tears  upon  the  bosom  of  his  leather  jerkin  pictured  to 
the  sympathetic  Lym  her  poor  Pa's  sad  plight. 

Now  Lym  was  a  youth  of  quick  parts*  and  ingenious 
faculties;  so,  bidding  Mary  Anne  cheer  up,  he  made  her 
promise  to  meet  Him  at  the  same  spot  the  next  evening. 
Lym  went  home,  and  while  restlessly  tossing  on  his 
hard  pallet  that  night,  his  mind  tortured  by  the  sorrows 
of  his  sweet  little  mistress,  his  big  toe  struck  againgt 
something  hard  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Getting  up  he 
struck  a  light,  and  discovered  a  small  parcel  lying  on 
the  floor  of  his  hut,  which  evidently  had  been  dislodged 
by  his  toe  a  few  moments  before.  He  picked  it  up,  and 
after  unwrapping  it  found  a  small  piece  of  cheese, 
which  he  recognized  as  the  contents  of  a  small  pack- 
age he  had  hooked  up  when  fishing  for  carp  in  the  ad- 
joining lake  some  five  years  previously,  had  tucked  it 
into  the  foot  of  his  bed  for  safe  keeping  and  then  had 
forgotten  all  about  it.  Lym  took  it  up  carelessly  and 
commenced  to  turn  it  in  his  warm  hand.  The  cheese 
began  to  emit  a  faint,  cheesy  odor,  which  gradually 
increased  in  strength  until  Ljm  was  obliged  to  open 
the  window.  The  longer  Lym  handled  the  cheese  the 
stronger  it  became,  until  at  last,  through  sheer  inability 
to  stand  its  pungent  odor  any  longer,  he  clapped  his 
fingers  to  his  nose  and  held  it  tight.  Now  whether  a 

7 


96  TAYLOR'S    LAKE. 

morsel  of  the  cheese  from  Lym's  fingers  found  its  way 
into  his  mouth,  or  whether  the  odor  was  so  strong  that 
it  materialized  on  his  tongue,  I  am  unable  to  state,  but 
certain  it  is  Lym  distinctly  tasted  the  flavor  of  the 
cheese,  and  found  it  so  marvelously  delicious  that  it 
was  a  difficult  matter  to  prevent  himself  from  gobbling 
it  all  up  right  away.  Suddenly  an  idea  struck  him: 
Surely,  this  would  be  the  very  thing  to  recuperate  old 
Klotz's  worn-out  palate.  Lym  wrapped  the  cheese  in  at 
least  twenty  covers  of  cloth  and  delivered  it  to  Mary 
Anne  the  next  night,  with  directions  to  open  it  only 
in  the  presence  of  her  father. 

That  night  the  old  man  had  been  taken  down  into  the 
big  banqueting  hall,  to  bid  his  old  retainers  and  hench- 
men good-bye,  and  thither  Mary  Anne  hurried.  Push- 
ing everybody  on  one  side  she  hurried  to  her  father's 
couch,  and  placing  the  package  on  the  small  table  by 
his  side,  commenced  to  tear  off  the  wrappings.  With 
the  removal  of  each  successive  layer  the  retainers 
edged  nearer  to  the  doors  and  windows,  while  the 
glassy  look  in  old  Klotz's  eyes  gradually  gave  way  to 
one  of  interest,  followed  by  his  presently  sitting  up  and 
sniffing  the  air  with  inquisitive  curiosity  such  as  he 
had  not  shown  for  months  past.  With  the  removal  of 
the  last  wrapper  the  cheese  stood  discovered,  and  sim- 
ultaneously with  its  appearance  an  odor  so  weirdly 
unearthly  and  diabolically  pungent  arose  that  it  could 
be  seen  like  a  pale  wreath  of  blue  smoke  to  circulate 
slowly  until  it  filled  the  room,  its  fumes  becoming  so 
overpowering  that  everybody  excepting  old  Klotz  and 
Mary  Anne  incontinently  fled  by  the  nearest  exit  they 
could  find. 

The  odor  apparently  inspired  old  Klotz  with  new  life, 
for  starting  up  from  his  couch  he  seized  the  cheese  and 
devoured  it  with  an  avidity  and  relish  to  which  he  had 
been  long  a  stranger,  begged  for  more,  kicked  off  the 
bed  clothes,  commenced  to  dress  himself,  and  assured 
his  daughter  that  the  individual  who  had  discovered 
such  a  marvelously  savory  compound  could  have  any- 


TAYLOR'S  LAKE.  97 

thing  he  wanted  for  the  asking.  Mary  Anne,  who  was 
a  .sharp-witted  girl,  immediately  beckoned  to  her  lover 
—who  had  been  watching  the  whole  proceedings 
through  the  crack  of  the  door— and  together  the  young 
couple  plumped  upon  their  knees  before  the  old  man, 
asking  him  to  ennoble  Lym  with  the  title  of  Burgher 
and  allow  them  to  start  housekeeping  without  further 
loss  of  time.  The  old  man,  tweaking  Lym's  nose  twice 
(the  usual  method  of  conferring  the  patent  of  nobility 
in  those  days),  addressed  him  as  Lym  the  Burgher, 
thus  forever  emancipating  him  from  his  serfdom  and 
raising  him  to  the  rank  of  a  Burgher.  Lym  the 
Burgher,  as  he  was  now  called,  started  a  cheese  factory 
as  soon  as  he  was  comfortably  married;  the  cheese  was 
named  after  him  and  called  Lym-the-Burgher  cheese, 
which  after  many  years  was  shortened  into  the  present 
method  of  pronouncing  it,  and  called  Limburger  cheese. 

I  should  have  remained  silent  on  the  above  history, 
but,  as  so  few  persons  are  aware  that  Limburger 
cheese  owes  its  origin  to  a  humble  fisherman,  I  felt  it 
my  duty  to  the  members  of  the  angling  fraternity  to 
enlighten  them. 

Taylor's  Lake  is  located  one  mile  and  a  half  from 
Gray's  Lake  Depot  on  the  Wisconsin  Central  Line. 
The  fishing  is  fairly  good  at  times,  but  never  anything 
extra.  There  is  a  prevailing  opinion  that  this  lake  is 
netted,  among  most  of  the  anglers  with  whom  I  have 
spoken;  whether  this  is  true,  I  am  unable  to  positively 
state,  but  certain  it  is  that  the  fishing  has  ceased  to  be 
anything  like  it  was  six  or  seven  years  ago.  In  fact, 
Taylor's  Lake  has  not  held  its  own  as  the  other  lakes 
in  the  vicinity  have  done.  The  use  of  set  lines  may 
have  something  to  do  with  it. 

There  is  excellent  bass  ground  on  the  shore  just  east 
of  Joe  Litwilder's  house.  The  best  pickerel  ground 
is  just  off  the  shallow,  in  the  northwestern  portion  of 
the  lake,  during  the  warmer  months,  and  outside  the 
fringe  of  bass  weeds  on  the  eastern  shore  during  the 


98  TAYLOR'S    LAKE, 

colder  months.  All  along  the  northern  shore  is  good 
bass  ground,  particularly  early  and  late  in  the  sea- 
son. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

GRAY'S  LAKE.      MY  FIRST  AND  LAST  EXPERIENCE  IN 
RANCHING. 

Once  I  became  so  enamored  of  a  ranchman's  life  that 
I  took  up  a  quarter  section  of  land  in  Cowlitz  County, 
Washington,  and  commenced  to  ranch.  After  getting 
a  large  log  house  built  and  comfortably  settled,  I 
turned  my  attention  to  getting  stock.  When  I  state 
that  my  sole  knowledge  of  farming  had  been  derived 
from  a  previous  Winter's  evening  deep  study  of  the 
American  Farmer,  it  will  be  at  once  understood  how 
fitted  I  was  for  the  occupation  I  had  chosen. 

My  first  purchase  was  a  hornless  cow,  a  muley  they 
called  her.  I  bought  her  in  a  small  town  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  nine  miles  away  from  home; 
and,  owing  to  the  fact  that  I  was  unable  to  remove 
or  silence  the  cow  bell  that  she  wore,  I  arrived  home 
at  nine  in  the  evening,  after  literally  dragging  and  pull- 
ing my  unwilling  purchase  the  whole  of  the  way  with 
an  admiring  and  curious  crowd  of  about  five  hundred 
other  people's  cows  following. 

Three  cows  that  happened  to  be  there  at  the  time  I 
made  my  start  manifested  such  an  intense  interest 
in  the  probable  fate  of  my  newly  bought  cow  that  they 
persisted  in  following  her.  I  stopped  and  attempted 
to  shoo  them  off,  but  beyond  showing  an  air  of  mild 
surprise  they  refused  to  leave  us.  About  half  a  mile 
further  down  the  road  we  came  across  a  herd  of  about 
a  dozen  more  cows,  and  these  animals— apparently 
quite  as  a  matter  of  course— waited  patiently  until  I 
had  dragged  my  muley  sufficiently  far  ahead,  and  then 
placidly  dropped  in  our  wake  and  duly  followed  on. 
At  a  turn  in  the  road  three  young  bulls  joined  our 
party,  and  within  the  next  two  miles  the  everlasting 
(99) 


100  GRAY'S    LAKE, 

tinkle  of  the  cow  bell  on  my  new  purchase  had  gathered 
in  quite  two  hundred  more  cows,  of  all  ages,  sexes, 
sizes  and  colors,  that  joined  the  procession.  I  thought 
I  had  never  seen  so  many  cows  together  in  all  my  life, 
and  grew  cold  when  I  cogitated  upon  the  probable 
consequences  of  the  wholesale  cow  abduction  of  which 
I  was  unwittingly  guilty.  For  seven  miles  the  addition 
to  our  ranks  steadily  increased;  apparently,  every  cow 
for  miles  around  pricked  up  its  ears  on  hearing  the 
penetrating  tinkle  of  that  cursed  little  brass  cow  bell 
and  forsook  home,  parents  and  everything  else  to  join 
us.  Honestly  speaking,  I  believe  there  was  enough 
beef  in  our  wake  to  have  furnished  the  whole  city  of 
Chicago  with  meat  for  a  week. 

Occasionally  my  cow  would  "sturdily  plant  her  fore- 
legs together,,  lower  her  head  and  imperatively  refuse 
to  be  pulled  an  inch  farther;  at  the  same  time  emitting 
a  plaintive,  lowering  protest.  On  hearing  this  every 
other  cow  in  the  procession  would  stop,  too,  and  bellow 
a  commiserating  and  sympathetic  chorus.  In  fact,  the 
scene  reminded  me  of  a  policemen  escorting  a  juvenile 
offender  to  the  village  lockup,  followed  by  a  crowd 
of  sympathizing  friends  and  relations. 

However,  at  last  I  reached  home  and  for  the  next 
two  days  was  kept  busy  apologizing  to  the  numerous 
neighboring  farmers  who  came  and  took  their  cattle 
away.  They  all  took  it  good  naturedly,  however,  and 
said  that  the  old  man  Boulder,  of  whom  I  had  bought 
the  cow,  had  put  up  a  job  on  me  with  the  bell. 

Mrs.  J—  spent  the  whole  of  the  next  two  days  in 
learning  to  milk.  At  the  end  of  that  time  she  came  in 
to  me,  and  sidling  up  asked  me  in  a  confidential  man- 
ner if  I  knew  how  many  teats  a  cow  ought  to  have. 
This  question  fairly  staggei-ed  me,  and  I  frankly  owned 
up  that  I  hadn't  the  least  idea. 

"Well,"  she  remarked,  "our  cow  has  only  got  two; 
suppose  you  go  down  to  the  village,  and  without  letting 
anyone  see  you  look  at  some  of  the  other  folks'  cattle 
and  see  how  many  they  have." 


GRAY'S    LAKE.  101 

I  did  so  at  once,  and  returned  with  the  overwhelming 
intelligence  that  every  cow  I  had  seen  had,  unmistaka- 
bly, four  well-developed  milking  appendages. 

I  felt  I  had  been  shamefully    imposed    upon    and 


angrily  started  down  to  old  Boulder's  house  to  inter- 
view him  on  the  subjec  t. 

"Waal,  waal,  ef  it  h'ain't  Mr.  Johnson,"  he  said,  as  he 
opened  the  door.  "Come  right  in!  Come  right  in  and 
sit  down!  I  was  just  a-telling'  Marthy  (his  wife)  to 
put  up  a  bushel  of  Fall  apples  and  send  over  to  you; 


102  GRAY'S    LAKE. 

> 

we  allus  like  to  be  kind  of  peart  and  neighborly  to  new- 
comers." 

"Only  two  tits,"  he  exclaimed,  after  I  had  told  my 
grievance,  "why,  sartin;  Jim  ripped  her  bag  with  a 
pitchfork  when  he  licked  her  last  Summer,  and  her  two 
back  tits  shriveled  up. *But  that  don't  matter,  anyhow; 
you  know  when  a  man  goes  blind  of  one  eye  he  kin 
see  doubly  as  well  with  the  one  that's  left,  and  it's  just 
the  same  with  a  cow's  tit,  all  the  milk  goes  to  the  one 
that's  left,  and  she  mHks  just  as  much.  Why,  Lor 
bless  your  soul,  Mr.  Johnson,  I  actually  consider  a  one- 
titted  cow  a  most  valuable  animal,  for  cows'  tits  are 
allers  a-getting'  cracked  and  sore  and  whar  thars  only 
two  thar  ain't  so  many,  to  bother  her." 

The  above  is  a  fair  sample^of  my  experience  in  ranch- 
ing. If  I  bought  a  horse  it  was  some  worthless  old 
animal,  possessing  every  ailment  and  blemish  that  it 
could  possibly  have  and  yet  live.  In  fact,  the  whole 
of  the  community,  for  miles  around,  apparently  con- 
sidered I  had  been  placed  there  by  a  beneficent  Provi- 
dence for  their  especial  benefit.  I  got  tired  of  it,  at 
last;  and,  appreciating  the  fact  that  I  didn't  understand 
the  farming  business  to  pursue  it  profitably,  gave  every- 
thing away  I  had  because  everyone  in  the  county 
hadn't  a  dollar  to  buy  with,  and  came  back  East. 

Gray's  Lake  is  reached  by  the  Gray's  Lake  Depot  on 
the  Wisconsin  Central  Line.  The  lake  is  located  a 
short  distance  west  of  the  depot.  It  contains  some 
fairly  good  fishing  grounds.  The  best  bait-casting 
water  is  on  the  northeastern  shore,  just  where  the 
weeds  and  rushes  meet.  The  trolling  ground  is  on  the 
northwestern  portion,  thence  south  in  the  deepish  w.ater 
just  outside  the  fringe  of  bass  weeds. 

Gray's  Lake  has  many  admirers  and  I  know  many 
anglers  that  have  steadily  fished  it  for  years  who 
prefer  it  to  any  of  the  others,  but  these  form  part  of  a 
clique  who  habitually  visit  it  more  from  the  old  asso- 
ciations it  embraces  than  from  any  points  of  excellence 
the  lake  possesses. 


GRAY'S    LAKE.  103 

I  recollect  a  party  of  Chicago  fishermen  who  once 
fished  it  on  a  wager.  They  paired  off  in  couples,  two 
in  each  boat,  with  the  understanding  that  the  two  "who 
lost  were  to  pay  for  a  supper.  The  rule  was,  pickerel 
and  bass  only  to  count,  and  nothing  under  a  pound 
weight  in  bass  and  three  pounds  in  pickerel.  I  was 
with  one  couple  during  their  catch,  and  noticed  that 
each  fish  caught  was  weighed  immediately  on  a  small 
steel  pocket  balance  they  carried,  and  if  deficient  a 
few  ounces  only  it  was  stuffed  with  a  little  mud  and 
weeds  until  it  would  pass  muster. 

This  discrepency  in  weight  reminded  me  of  Dan'l 
Bruce,  an  old  ante-bellum  darky  of  Missouri.  Dan  used 
to  spend  his  time  fishing  for  catfish,  and  one  day  after 
having  imbibed  as  much  "bust-head"  as  the  saloon- 
keeper would  trust  him  with  went  to  the  creek  and 
caught  a  thirty-pound  catfish  the  first  cast  of  his  line. 
Daniel  took  out  an  antiquated  steelyard  which  he  al- 
ways carried  and  weighed  it.  To  Dan's  joy  it  just 
turned  the  scale  at  thirty  pounds. 

"Lor'  bress  my  soul,"  he  ejaculated,  almost  turning  a 
somersault  in  his  delight;  "no  more  work  for  dis  haar 
nigger  for  a  month."  So  overpowered  was  he,  with  the 
joint  effects  of  the  liquor  he  had  previously  swallowed 
and  his  big  catch,  he  lay  down  and  went  to  sleep 
soundly  on  the  grass. 

Another  darky  who  had  been  fishing,  unobserved  by 
Daniel,  in  a  small  reed  brake  about  two  hundred  yards 
up  the  stream,  had  watched  Dan  make  his  catch  and 
had  seen  him  weigh  it.  This  darky  also  had  caught  a 
small  catfish  weighing  just  a  pound.  He  patiently 
waited  till  Dan  was  fast  in  dreamland,  and  then  quietly 
sneaking  up  substituted  his  own  fish  for  the  large  one 
lying  on  the  grass  beside  the  slumbering  Daniel  and 
made  off. 

After  a  while  Daniel  awoke,  and  gazing  around  the 
first  object  that  met  his  eyes  was  the  insignificant  little 
catfish  his  neighbor  had  left.  He  arose  to  his  feet 
slowly,  with  his  eyes  bulging  out  like  saucers,  and 


104  CRAY'S    LAKE. 

taking  the  fish  in  his  hand  he  gazed  at  it  long  and  fear- 
fully, muttering  to  himself: 

"F£>r  de  Lawd's  sake!  fore  de  Lawds,  dat  shore  am  a 
cat!  But  Lawd  a  massy  how  he  am  shrunk;  shorely, 
when  I  weighed  dat  ar  cat  afore,  dar  inus'  hab  ben 
one  poun'  ob  fish  an'  twenty-nine  poun's  ob  whisky." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CHANNEL     LAKE.        LAKE     CATHERINE.         LOON     LAKE. 

LOCATING     STRANGE    WATERS.        HOW     AND 

WHEN  TO  STRIKE  A  FISH. 

Channel  Lake  and  Lake  Catherine  are  located  di- 
rectly north  of  Lake  Marie,  with  which  they  communi- 
cate by  a  channel,  and  are  also  connected  by  another 
waterway.  They  are  reached  by  the  Antioch  Depot 
on  the  Wisconsin  Central  Line.  The  distance  from 
Chicago  is  a  trifle  over  fifty-five  miles.  In  both  of 
these  lakes  excellent  bass  and  pickerel  fishing  is  to 
be  had,  though  the  really  good  fishing  ground  in 
Channel  Lake  is  somewhat  limited,  the  east  shore  be- 
ing the  best  fishing  water.  In  Lake  Catherine  the 
best  bass  ground  is  at  the  southern  point,  and  for 
both  bass  and  pickerel  on  either  side  of  the  channel  on 
the  west  side  of  the  lake.  There  is  also  some  wall- 
eyed pike  ground  in  deeper  water  at  the  south  end, 
as  shown  on  the  map.  So  many  anglers  have  asked 
me  the  quickest  method  of  locating  the  best  fishing 
grounds  in  strange  waters,  that  I  think  it  would  be  a 
good  idea  to  give  a  general  description  of  a  typical 
piece  of  water,  naming  those  general  divisions  and 
bottom  formations  which  are  to  be  found  in  all  lakes. 
With  few  exceptions  all  lakes  possess  the  following 
features: 

First,  a  rush  line  extending  from  the  shore  line  some 
distance  within  the  lake,  dotted  here  and  there  with 
lilypads  at  some  points  close  within  shore.  Secondly, 
bass  and  pickerel  weeds,  just  outside  the  rush  line  and 
adjoining  it;  and  thirdly,  the  deeper  water  which  lies 
immediately  beyond  the  bass  and  pickerel  weeds.  This 
deeper  water  usually  marks  the  termination  of  what- 
(105) 


106  CHANNEL    LAKE. 

ever  bars  there  may  be  in  the  lake.  Fourthly,  the 
main  body  of  the  lake  and  deepest  portions  of  all. 

Bass  and  pickerel  alternate  between  the  deepish 
water  adjoining  the  main  body  and  the  lilypads  on 
the  margin,  according  to  the  variations  of  the  weather, 
or,  in  other  words,  according  to  the  existing  condi- 
tions of  heat  and  cold.  The  colder  the  weather,  the 
deeper  the  water  the  fishes  will  seek  in  which  to  lie, 
and  as  the  temperature  warms  the  fishes  seek  the 
shallow  portions  of  a  lake.  On  an  extremely  hot 
day  bass  will  crowd  into  the  shallow,  muddy  bot- 
toms at  the  roots  of  the  lilypads  and  refuse  all  bait. 
On  such  occasions,  if  a  bait  is  cast  near  them  it  will 
cause  them  to  vacate  the  spot  in  a  manner  which 
shows  them  to  be  scared.  They  are  not  in  a  feeding 
humor  and  aje  easily  frightened  by  any  disturbance 
in  their  vicinity;  but,  as  soon  as  the  heat  of  the  day 
is  over  and  evening  draws  near,  the  bass  forsake  the 
lilypads  for  the  feeding  grounds  adjoining.  On  chilly 
days  the  bass  lie  in  the  rush  patches,  bass  weeds  and 
deepish  water  adjoining.  While  lying  in  such  places 
they  may  be  enticed  often  with  a  bait,  and  will  seize 
it  provided  too  much  exertion  is  not  requii'ed  to  do 
so,  even  when  not  in  a  feeding  humor.  From  these  sit- 
uations, as  evening  approaches  and  the  wind  goes 
down,  they  seek  the  nearest  shallow  frequented  by 
small  fry  and  there  feed. 

With  all  predatory  fishes  the  two  principal  requisites 
are  a  lay-by  or  resting  place  and  a  feeding  ground.  In  a 
lake  these  two  places  are  close  together,  because 
fishes  that  inhabit  bodies  of  still  water  are  local  in 
their  habits  and  do  not  roam  from  one  point  to  another 
any  very  great  distance,  as  do  those  who  inhabit  run- 
ning water. 

The  minnows  and  small  fry  upon  which  bass  and 
pickerel  feed  are  to  be  found  in  greater  numbers  in 
those  shallow  portions  of  the  water  between  the  out- 
side shore  line  and  the  bass  weeds  immediately  ad- 
joining the  rush  line,  and  this  portion  of  the  lake  is 


CHANNEL    LAKE.  107 

the  general  feeding  ground  for  whatever  perch  and 
pickerel  it  may  contain;  while  the  bass  weeds  and 
deepish  water  immediately  adjoining  or  the  rush  and 
lilypads  on  the  margin  is  their  lay-by  or  resting  place, 
according  to  the  existing  climatic  influences. 

The  best  way  to  fish  a  strange  lake  is  to  make  di- 
rectly for  the  nearest  sparsely  dotted  patch  of  rashes 


and  examine  the  bottom;  if  it  shows  a  depth  of  water 
from  two  to  five  feet,  and  a  good,  thick  undergrowth 
of  weeds  sufficiently  high  to  allow  a  bass  to  sink  into 
it  and  be  covered,  the  angler  may  go  to  work  on  such 
ground  with  confidence.  Bass  have  a  particular  af- 
fection for  this  kind  of  ground,  and  even  under  the 
most  adverse  circumstances  of  wind  or  weather  ground 
of  this  description  generally  will  yield  something  to 
persistent  fishing. 


108  CHANNEL    LAKE. 

Knowing  when  and  how  to  strike  a  fish  is  an  im- 
portant factor  in  angling.  A  pickerel  seizes  a  bait 
crosswise  and  hardly  ever  shifts  it  from  that  posi- 
tion in  his  mouth  until  he  has  reached  a  spot  in  which 
to  devour  it.  The  fisherman  will  feel  the  strike  when 
a  pickerel  seizes  his  bait.  This  will  be  followed  by 
a  short  or  long  run,  according  to  the  size  of  the  fish 
and  the  distance  his  inclination  may  lead  him  to  travel 
before  stopping  to  swallow  it.  Never  strike  a  fish  on 
its  first  run  unless  there  is  some  special  reason  for  do- 
ing so,  nor  allow  him  to  feel  the  slightest  check  when 
running  off  with  the  bait;  but  when  the  fish,  after 
resting,  again  goes  off,  tighten  the  line,  and  imme- 
diately the  tension  shows  a  direct  communication  with 
the  fish  without  any  intervening  slack  the  rod  should 
be  thrown  smartly  back  with  sufficient  force  to  drive 
the  hooks  home.  Always  wait  until  a  fish  is  going 
away  from  you  before  striking;  never  attempt  it  when 
he  is  coming  toward  you.  You  may  hook  him  in  this 
position,  but  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  it  will  be  done  so 
insecurely  that  he  will  tear  away. 

A  bass  seizes  a  minnow  by  the  head  and  a  frog  by 
the  legs,  and  when  in  a  feeding  humor  swallows  the 
bait  as  he  moves  away;  he  does  not  wait  to  find  some 
suitable  place  in  which  to  swallow  his  prey  like  the 
pickerel  does,  but  feeds  as  he  swims.  But  a  bass, 
when  not  over  hungry,  will  often  seize  a  bait  and 
hold  it  in  his  mouth  for  a  considerable  length  of  time 
and  then  reject  it.  This  can  be  obviated,  to  a  certain 
extent,  by  using  two  hooks,  one  in  the  head  of  the 
bait  and  the  other  in  the  tail,  and  striking  directly 
the  bass  seizes  the  bait.  With  this  exception,  always 
give  a  bass  a  little  time  and  allow  him  to  go  off  with 
the  bait  some  trifling  distance  before  striking. 

An  experienced  fisherman  can  generally  form  a  fairly 
correct  idea  of  the  kind  of  fish  which  strikes  at  his 
bait.  If  in  shallow  water  it  is  necessarily  drawn  near 
the  surface,  and  the  rise  of  the  fish  is  sufficiently  vis- 
ible to  enable  a  pretty  correct  guess  to  be  made,  and 


CHANNEL    LAKE. 


109 


110  CHANNEL    LAKE. 

in  deepish  water  where  the  rise  and  strike  of  the  fish 
are  not  visible  on  the  surface,  the  sharp,  business-like 
double  snap  of  a  large  bass  is  easily  distinguished 
from  that  of  the  steady,  sweeping  clutch  which  at- 
tends the  bite  of  a  large  pickerel.  It  is  not  so  easy 
to  distinguish  between  the  bites  of  the  smaller  bass 
and  pickerel;  they  both  seize  the  bait  with  a  sharp, 
worrying  movement  similar  to  that  of  a  large  perch. 

The  bait-caster  really  requires  two  kinds  of  casting 
rods,  one  for  weedy  waters  and  another  for  those 
waters  which  contain  but  few  weeds.  A  six-foot  six- 
inch  casting  rod,  not  exceeding  seven  ounces  in  weight, 
is  an  excellent  all-round  tool  for  river  fishing  and  in 
those  lakes  where  heavy  surface  vegetation  is  not  en- 
countered. But  such  a  rod,  if  used  in  many  of  the 
lakes  described  in  these  articles,  would  soon  come 
to  grief;  in  fact,  a  stiff er  and  slightly  heavier  rod,  with 
plenty  of  backbone,  is  an  absolute  necessity,  because 
the  angler  to  get  fish  must  fish  not  only  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  the  weed  beds  but  often  in  the  weed 
beds  themselves.  I  am  aware  there  are  many  really 
good  fisherman  who  decry  this  style  of  fishing,  in 
fact,  I  am  sure  if  everyone  had  their  choice  they 
would  much  prefer  to  fish  in  open  water.  But  if  the 
fishes  are  in  the  weeds  and  rushes  what  can  you  do? 
You  have  either  got  to  go  for  them  in  the  weeds  or 
catch  nothing.  ^ 

Loon  Lake  is  reached  from  Loon  Lake  Depot.  There 
is  good  bass  fishing  all  around  the  eastern  portion, 
particularly  during  the  latter  end  of  the  season,  when 
the  fishes  will  be  found  to  frequent  the  outer  fringe 
of  bass  weeds  more  than  the  rushes  inshore.  The 
deepish  water,  all  around  the  western  shore,  is  good 
fishing  water  at  all  times. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FOX  LAKE.       PETITE  LAKE.       OBSERVATIONS    ON    SKIT- 
*  TERING  AND  BAIT-CASTING. 

Fox  Lake  is  reached  from  the  Lake  Villa  Depot  on 
the  Wisconsin  Central  Line.  It  is  fifty  miles  from 
Chicago,  and  although  plentifully  stocked  with  pickerel 
and  bass  is  the  most  difficult  lake  of  any  in  which  to 
make  a  good  catch.  There  are  a  few  old-time  fishermen 
who  occasionally  make  good  catches  by  skittering  and 
trolling,  but  for  the  average  bait-caster  who  possesses 
no  special  knowledge  of  the  ground  the  outlook  for  a 
good  catch  is  not  very  encouraging.  If  a  man  is  con- 
tent to  engage  a  boat  and  the  services  of  one  of  the 
several  experienced  guides  who  live  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, to  row  him  cautiously  within  reach  of  the  best 
pieces  of  water,  and  will  skitter  a  minnow  or  a  spoon 
with  a  long  bamboo  pole,  yanking  the  fish  into  the  boat 
without  play  or  sport,  such  an  individual— providing  he 
strikes  a  favorable  time — can  often  make  a  big  catch. 

The  lake  teems  with  natural  food  of  every  descrip- 
tion, and  this  is  probably  one  of  the  chief  reasons  the 
fish  do  not  feed  readily.  Although  the  lake  contains 
some  magnificent  bass  and  pickerel  ground,  as  far  as 
appearances  go,  little  of  it  is  worth  fishing.  The  space 
of  really  good  fishing  water,  for  such  a  large  area  as 
that  which  Fox  Lake  contains,  is  extremely  small. 

Starting  from  the  Eastside  Hotel,  the  best  thing  to 
do  is  to  row  directly  to  the  spot  marked  H  on  the  chart. 
The  best  bass  ground  in  the  whole  lake  is  that  em- 
braced within  the  triangle  formed  by  the  letters  P, 
D  and  H,  directly  facing  the  Eastside  Hotel.  The 
bottom  of  this  portion  of  the  lake  is  all  that  could  be  de- 
sired, rush  patches  with  bass  weed  and  a  heavy  ground 
growth  of  silk  weed.  This  piece  of  water  contains  sev- 
8  (111) 


112  FOX    LAKE— PETITE    LAKE. 

eral  fine,  deep  pockets.  There  is  enough  good  water  in 
this  space  to  occupy  a  bait-caster  a  half  day  if  he 
fishes  it  as  it  should  be  fished.  With  a  trifling  breeze 
he  can  drift  over  the  ground  and  fish  it  thoroughly,  the 
rushes  being  just  thick  enough  to  delay  the  drift  of  the 
boat  sufficiently  to  allow  thorough  combing  of  the 
ground. 

Proceeding  north  from  the  point  marked  P  on  the 
map,  an  open  space  free  from  rushes  and  weeds  is 
crossed  until  the  rushes  are  again  reached  at  the  point 
marked  M.  This  is  fine  perch  ground,  and  when  the 
fishes  are  feeding  a  man  can  easily  catch  a  hundred  of 
these  gamy  little  fellows  in  a  very  short  space  of  time. 
They  run  in  schools  of  about  a  couple  of  dozen  to  fifty, 
and  providing  the  angler  is  careful  and  draws  his  fishes 
in  as  quickly  and  quietly  as  possible,  he  can  catch  half 
the  school  before  the  rest  take  the  alarm  and  go  off. 

The  next  point  worth  visiting  is  the  rush  bed  at  A, 
in  the  northwest  bay.  There  is  good  pickerel  water 
here,  and  large  fishes  are  frequently  taken  just  out- 
side the  fringe  of  rushes  running  north  and  south. 
From  the  point  marked  A  to  the  channel  at  B  is  good 
trolling  ground,  following  the  shore  around  about  two 
hundred  yards  out.  A  man  who  likes  still  fishing  can 
probably  do  as  well  among  the  bass  if  he  should  anchor 
out  in  the  deepish  water  about  two  hundred  yards, 
directly  opposite  the  Howard  House.  On  the  west 
side  of  the  island  lies  good  bass  and  pickerel  ground. 
From  the  island,  coming  south,  the  next  point  of  ex- 
cellence is  the  spot  marked  Z.  This  is  fairly  good  bass 
water,  but  the  fishes  appear  to  run  small.  There  is 
good  pickerel  water  at  the  point  marked  O,  and  fairly 
good  bass  ground  at  the  point  marked  K,  in  the  bay 
east  of  the  Eastside  Hotel. 

The  fishing  in  all  these  grounds  is  very  erratic.  Some 
days  the  best  pieces  of  water,  or  those  that  are  gen- 
erally considered  the  best,  will  prove  a  blank,  and  other 
portions  which  are  considered  poor  fishing  will  reward 
the  angler  with  a  big  catch  of  fish.  The  best  thing  the 


FOX    LAKE— PETITE    LAKE. 


113 


114  FOX    LAKE-PETITE    LAKE. 

fisherman  can  do  is  to  try  all  the  grounds  in  turn,  or  at 
least  as  many  as  his  time  will  permit.  Sticking  to  a 
piece  of  water  in  the  face  of  non-success,  just  because 
at  some  previous  time  a  good  catch  of  fish  was  taken 
there,  is  only  a  waste  of  time.  If  you  don't  find  the 
fishes  willing  to  take  your  bait  in  one  supposed  good 
fishing  spot,  move  around  to  the  next  and  keep  on 
moving  until  you  find  a  piece  of  water  where  they  are 
feeding.  In  any  large  body  of  water  like  that  con- 
tained in  most  of  the  lakes  I  have  described,  there  is 
generally  some  particular  portion  more  favored  than 
the  rest  and  in  which  a  few  fishes  will  be  found  to 
respond  to  the  angler's  attentive  persistence. 

One  day  this  Summer,  while  casting  on  Fox  Lake,  I 
came  across  a  boat  in  which  were  two  persons.  One 
was  a  gentleman  whom  I  recognized  as  a  well-known 
Chicago  business  man;  the  other  was  an  old  boatman 
who  has  fished  the  lakes  for  many  years.  The  gentle- 
man was  skittering  with  a  minnow,  the  boatman  row- 
ing, and  although  I  have  my  own  private  opinion  re- 
garding skittering,  yet,  after  watching  the  method  pur- 
sued, it  was  impossible  to  avoid  admiring  the  artistic 
manner  and  the  amount  of  positive  science  displayed 
by  the  boatman  when  placing  his  patron  within  reach 
of  the  weed  bed  they  were  skirting.  The  sculls  were 
moved  with  scarcely  a  perceptible  motion,  most  of  the 
rowing  being  done  from  that  side  farthest  from  the 
weed  bed.  Each  time  the  angler  would  cast  his  bait 
among  the  weeds  and  rushes,  the  sculls  were  suffered 
to  remain  perfectly  stationary  during  the  whole  of  the 
time  the  bait  was  in  the  water;  and  what  progress  was 
made  in  shifting  the  ground  was  done  between  fhe 
casts,  yet  so  delicately  and  skillfully  that,  with  the 
slightest  ripple  to  assist  the  boatman,  it  was  possible 
to  fish  within  ten  yards  of  the  boat  without  scaring 
away  the  fish. 

I  recognized  at  once  how  it  was  possible  to  make  the 
big  catches  of  fish  which  are  so  often  taken  by  skitter- 
ing. The  bait  was  working  almost  all  the  time.  Each 


FOX    LAKE—  PETITE    LAKE. 


115 


spot  of  water  could  be  thoroughly  searched,  and  what 
was  more  important  still  there  was  no  necessity  to 
hurry  the  bait  through  the  water.  I  can  quite  under- 
stand a  man  who  has  fished  in  this  manner  for  any 
length  of  time  being  unwilling  to  give  up  the  skittering 
style  of  fishing  and  take  up  with  the  practice  of  bait- 
casting. 

The  art  of  bait-casting  is  becoming  better  known  and 
appreciated  every  year.    Eight  years  ago  the  number  of 


PLTITE  LAKE 


bait-casters  that  could  be  seen  on  the  lakes  were  few, 
but  now  one  cannot  help  noticing  that  the  bait-casters 
form  a  large  majority  of  those  who  leave  each  Satur- 
day on  the  Wisconsin  Central  for  the  lakes  of  Northern 
Illinois.  There  are  two  things  required  in  catching  fish. 
First,  to  know  where  to  look  for  them,  and  then  to 
place  the  bait  before  the  fishes  without  letting  them  sus- 
pect that  you  are  at  the  other  end  of  the  line ;  and  there 
is  no  method  which  accomplishes  the  latter  so  well  as 
the  bait-casting  rod. 


116  FOX    LAKE— PETITE    LAKE. 

Petite  Lake  is  reached  from  the  Antioch  Depot  on 
the  Wisconsin  Central.  The  rush  line  is  comparatively 
scant.  The  best  bass  ground  is  found  around  the 
rush  and  flag  patch  in  the  point  marked  on  the  chart. 
The  best  pickerel  ground  is  just  outside  the  weeds,  on 
the  shallow  portion,  on  the  western  shore.  For  even- 
ing fishing  with  frogs  the  lilypads  in  the  northeastern 
point  is  the  best  ground  of  any.  Petite  Lake  is  fairly 
good  fishing  water,  and  during  the  season  has  its  fair 
share  of  angling  visitors.  There  are  plenty  of  good 
boats  to  be  had,  and  experienced  boatmen  who  know 
the  water  thoroughly  will  accompany  the  fisherman  at 
a  reasonable  charge. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 

700  U63A  C001 

ANGLING  IN  THE  LAKES  OF  NORTHERN  ILLINO 


